


But Never Alone

by Be_eating_you



Series: But Never Alone [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Asexual Steve Rogers, Asexuality Spectrum, Coming Out, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Genderqueer Character, Internalized Transphobia, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Phone Sex, Supportive Relationship, Trans Bucky, Trans Character, sexual interaction does not alter asexual character's orientation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Be_eating_you/pseuds/Be_eating_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve opened up the door to Bucky's bedroom and stopped dead because his brain couldn't wrap around what he was seeing. Bucky was home, alright. Bucky was home and standing in the middle of his bedroom, his hands up behind his back as he struggled with the hook and eye closure of a bra. He froze only seconds after Steve did, both of them staring at each other in dumb silence.<br/>--<br/>See notes at the end of the chapter for an explanation of some of the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve allowed himself some small thrills now and then. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath while he rode his bike was one of those small thrills. For an instant, he could indulge himself in the illusion that he had taken flight. He was flying, and he'd soon be far away from everything that was bothering him. Everything that had ever gone wrong in his life. It was a small pleasure he couldn't indulge in long. He opened his eyes in time to keep himself on the sidewalk, the deep breath he took pushing itself out of his lungs in surprise. 

Maybe it was better not to indulge. But the day had been long, and he had been left confused. Bucky had been acting distant towards him, he had gotten a less than stellar grade on an assignment that he had worked hard on (alright, so, he probably could have worked harder), and there had just been this overall mounting frustration in his chest that he couldn't quite place. Summer was coming faster than he was ready for, and if he took time to really consider that tight feeling in his chest he may have realized it was anxiety. This summer wasn't going to be a fun pause in the monotony of high school. It was going to be the last summer before everyone he knew parted ways. Before he went to college, and Bucky...

They'd talked about it a few times, and Bucky was frankly reluctant to even give college a thought. It frustrated Steve more than he liked to admit. Bucky was one of the smartest people he knew and he couldn't imagine why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it in college. It was true that college wasn't for everyone, but the other boy had yet to provide a reason beyond "I don't want to talk about it" for not wanting to go. 

Steve abandoned his bike in the front yard of the Bucky's house and made his way up to the front door, digging a key out of his pocket. He had been such a fixture in the Barnes household since he was seven that it was only natural that he had a key. Mrs. Barnes had given it to him, declaring him an official member of the family. In truth, he didn't often use his key. He was usually attached to Bucky at the hip, so that there was no need. Unfortunately that wasn't the case today since part of Bucky's avoidance had included leaving school before Steve. Usually, Bucky would stay behind and wait for Steve to get done with the student council meeting he was in. Today was different. 

The house was uncharacteristically quiet and that gave Steve pause. He could hear the fishtank that was the usual backdrop to the chaos that was the Barnes household but other than that? Nothing. Mrs. Barnes wasn't watching cooking shows in the kitchen and humming to herself, like she usually was when Steve and Bucky got home. The three Barnes girls weren't fighting or watching television in the living room. It just seemed to be Steve and the fish. He frowned and dropped his bag by the door, making his way into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. As he opened the fridge to get at the Brita, he noticed a note. 

_Boys-  
Took Becca and the twins out shopping. There's money for pizza on the kitchen table. Love you!_

_Mom_

Steve was always warmed by how Mrs. Barnes treated him like her own son. It had been like that ever since Bucky had dragged him through the front door. It was easy to think of Mrs. Barnes as "mom", even though it sometimes made Steve sad. He missed his own mother fiercely and probably still hadn't come to terms with her death properly -- ten years after the fact. 

He drank the cold water from the fridge and set the glass on the counter. If Bucky wasn't home, then Steve was going to stick around and wait for him. He really wanted to talk to the other boy about whatever was going on. It didn't seem fair to avoid him the whole day and not provide any kind of explanation. If he'd done something, he wanted the opportunity to be able to make amends for it. It wasn't fair to deny him the opportunity to say sorry and try to make it better. 

The stairs creaked a little as he made his way up them to Bucky's room. He probably could have hung out in the living room to watch TV and do his homework, but feeling how he was? He really wanted the comfort of Bucky's room. He wanted the crappy old posters, and the unfolded laundry on the floor. He wanted to pick up the threadbare stuffed rabbit that Bucky kept on the shelf above his bed and hug it. Bucky'd never admit it (though Steve knew) but he still slept with the rabbit now and then. It was a comfort object and that's what Steve wanted. It was probably strange that he was seeking that out in Bucky's personal space when Bucky was part of the problem, but he really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about it. Thinking about it would mean that he'd have to deal with the emotions attached to the issue, and that was something better left alone or let go. 

Steve opened up the door to Bucky's bedroom and stopped dead because his brain couldn't wrap around what he was seeing. Bucky was home, alright. Bucky was home and standing in the middle of his bedroom, his hands up behind his back as he struggled with the hook and eye closure of a bra. He froze only seconds after Steve did, both of them staring at each other in dumb silence. 

"Buck?" Steve's voice came out tight and strained. He wasn't really processing any of what he was seeing. It wasn't just the bra. It was... everything. Bucky was wearing a skirt and a pair of leggings. His lips looked red and wet with gloss. 

"Shit, it isn't what it looks like," Bucky dropped his hands from behind his back, the bra subsequently falling to catch on his elbows. His cheeks flushed bright red and he whipped the garment off himself like it was a spider he'd just noticed crawling up his arm. 

"What, what is it, then?" Steve wished that he didn't sound so damn confounded. He wished that he could step into the room and try to do something more effective than standing there and staring at his best friend. Bucky was just staring at him, awkward and embarrassed. The skirt that he was wearing came down to just above the knee, a pretty navy blue that looked nice against the light gray leggings he was wearing. His feet were bare, and Steve could see that his toenails were painted in such a way that they matched the skirt. The nail polish looked a little worn and it occurred to Steve that he hadn't seen Bucky barefoot in months.

"I don't know," Bucky's voice sounded odd to Steve, flat but broken at the same time. He folded his arms across his now bare chest, looking down at the bra that he had thrown away from himself. His dark hair fell in his face and he shook his head to get it away from his eyes. Just as it occurred to Steve that he hadn't seen Bucky barefoot in months, it occurred to him that the other boy had also been growing his hair out. He didn't know what to do with these little facts that his brain was supplying him, but he eased himself into the room, closing the door behind himself. 

"I'm...I'm not mad at you."

Bucky's eyes flashed, "Why the hell would you be mad at me?"

"I don't know. It just... seemed the thing to say. Are you ok?"

"No, I'm not fucking ok."

Steve nodded, keeping his back to the door and giving Bucky space. He was feeling defensive, that much was clear. Steve desperately wanted to cross the space between them and hug Bucky or -- or something. He honestly didn't know what was the best thing to do in this situation. Bucky was turning away from him, scraping his hair behind his ears. It was clear even from where Steve was standing that he was shaking. 

"I...like your skirt, Buck," it seems the right thing to say, even though Steve sees Bucky flinch in response to it. He keeps on, "It looks good."

"You're funny," Bucky looked over his shoulder at him, hugging himself tight. His eyes, always so expressive, were guarded and dark beneath his brow. It just made Steve want to go to him more, or press on. He chewed his lip and deliberated with himself. The fact that Bucky was shaking meant that he was scared. The last thing Steve ever wanted in the world was for Bucky to be afraid of him.

"I'm not trying to be funny, I'm trying to... to understand what's going on," Steve eased himself down to sitting on the floor while he spoke, "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, unless you ask me to."

Bucky slowly turned around and stared at him, the room lapsing into an unfamiliar and uncomfortable silence. This was something that Steve's seventeen year old brain wasn't quite prepared to deal with, but he was willing to try and understand. He had known Bucky for nine years, and he thought that that nine years had given him an insight to how the other boy thought and felt about most things. He'd openly shared everything there was bout himself with Bucky, and he assumed that Bucky had shared everything with him. But then, there was this, and there must have been some reason that Bucky hadn't felt comfortable speaking to Steve. Belatedly, he wondered if he should be apologizing and leaving, if that'd be better. But there was something in the way Bucky was looking at him that made him stay. The fact that Bucky had been aloof towards him all day was forgotten. 

"Look," Steve held up his hands, "I'm sorry I barged in on you, I didn't think you were home and I wanted to come up here and wait for you. I can go, if you want me to, but... I'd rather stay, if you don't mind. We can talk, or..."

Bucky shook his head, his arms still wrapped tight around himself. His voice was hoarse when he interrupted Steve, "I'm going to go change."

"Alright," Steve nodded, and got up so that he could excuse himself from the room, "will you get me when you're changed?"

Bucky nodded. Putting a door between himself and Bucky felt wrong, but Steve was willing to afford him the privacy that he needed in the moment. He scratched his arm and looked at the family pictures lining the walls. Mrs. Barnes and her brood. His gaze lingered on a picture of himself and Bucky together. In it, they were ten years old, arms wrapped around each other as they wore proud grins. Bucky was holding up a scrawny little fish. He liked to claim that they caught it together, but really, Bucky had done all the work. Steve had tried to help, but the thing had flapped in his hands and he'd ended up dropping it. They chased that poor little fish down the beach, unwittingly cruel as children are wont to be in their excitement. 

"Hey," Bucky's voice jogged him out of the memory and he turned away from the pictures. Bucky was leaning out of the door to his bedroom, dressed in the t shirt and jeans he had been wearing at school. His feet were still bare and Steve found himself staring at the blue painted toe nails. Bucky must have realize what he was doing because he shuffled back into his room, snagging a pair of socks off the ground. 

"So... can we talk about this?" Steve followed him in, watching sadly. Bucky was putting the socks on, hiding his painted nails from Steve's view. 

"I don't know what there is to talk about."

The uncomfortable silence came over them again. Bucky sat down in his computer chair and Steve made his way to the bed, perching on the edge. He folding his hands against his lap and stared at his knuckles like there was something particularly interesting there. He knew he should be saying something, that he should be providing some kind of reassurance, but the words were stuck in his throat. He drew a breath, let it out, drew another one, and finally got out, "Are you... trans?"

"Christ, Steve," Bucky snipped, sinking further into his computer chair, "the hell kind of question is that?"

"A considerate one? I don't know. Please, I'm... I'm trying to understand and be your friend. I'm not trying to judge you."

"I don't know."

"If you're..."

"Yeah, I don't know," Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, "that'd be an easy answer."

Steve chewed his lips. He had read a few things on trans issues, but not enough to really feel educated about it or like he could help his friend. He'd have to do more research, that much was certain. If it would help Bucky, then he'd start reading anything that he could get his hands on. That may have been over eager, but -- his mind was so busy whirring that it took him a moment to realize that Bucky was staring at him, as if he was waiting for Steve to say something. 

"Well," he cleared his throat, "if you are, I support you."

"Gee, thanks," Bucky quipped, but there was no fire behind it. He just looked tired, his cheeks still pink from embarrassment and the quick scrub he had given himself to get rid of the cursory amount of makeup that he had been wearing. Steve hadn't seen his friend so embarrassed and reluctant to talk since they were kids. He desperately wanted to make Bucky laugh to break him out of looking so unsure and upset. 

"You really did look nice," the words sounded lame as soon as they left Steve's mouth, but he was sincere and hoped that Bucky would pick up on that. He took a breath and powered ahead, "I'd rethink the lip gloss, though. Kind of clashed with the blue."

Bucky looked at him with raised eyebrows, a look of confusion crossing his face before settling into a smirk, "You asshole."

"Hey, I'm just trying to give you some tips!"

"I'll fucking clash if I want to, Steve. Just watch me."

The silence got less uncomfortable as they started to rib each other. Slowly, Bucky shifted himself from the computer chair to sit on the edge of the bed beside Steve. Steve was happy to feel the weight of his head against his shoulder. Bucky smelled good -- decidedly different from his usual Old Spice Timber, though there was an undertone of that. Steve turned his face into Bucky's hair to inhale deeply. He smelled like fruit. 

Bucky's chuckle was low, reverberating against Steve's side. His arm snaked around him, and Steve felt better than he had all day. He didn't understand what was going on, but he was going to try his best to educate himself and be there for his friend. He wondered if Bucky had been avoiding him because he had been gearing himself up to come home and get dressed. Steve's eyes drifted to where the blue skirt and leggings were abandoned on the floor, discarded like a snake's skin. He leaned into Bucky's side. There'd be time to talk about it later. 

Steve's stomach growled and he had to reluctantly give up on the idea that he could stay leaned against Bucky for the rest of the evening, "Your mom left money for pizza."

"Yeah, I saw. You want me to order the usual?"

Steve nodded, watching Bucky as the other boy got up and picked up his cellphone and dialed. There was so much that they needed to talk about, so much ground to cover, but right now it felt like it was more important to act like everything was normal. Bucky's voice was deep and warm to Steve's ears, what he was saying absolutely irrelevant. Steve found himself wanting to reach out and touch the skirt that Bucky had been wearing. He wanted to pick it up and hand it back to Bucky, to tell him to put it on, but there was no way to do that with any kind of tact. It would probably end up embarrassing or upsetting Buck. There'd be another time for that. 

Bucky hung up the phone, briefly glancing back at the abandoned skirt before settling his gaze on Steve, "So."

"So?"

"...Let's go downstairs, watch a movie, while we wait for the pizza."

And like that they were downstairs and away from the situation that neither of them knew how to talk about. Steve got the money from the kitchen while Bucky put on a movie. They sat close together, laughing and eating, and neither of them mentioned the skirt for the rest of the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I look in the mirror and see someone else," she whispered to herself, and that didn't quite sound right. That sounded like she was losing her mind. She chewed her lip, running her hand down her body, "...I look in the mirror and it just... isn't what I expect. But I don't know... what I expect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags changed to M/F. I auto-clicked M/M. Thank you to the person who caught that, I appreciate it. :)
> 
> Warning: This chapter deals heavily with both social and physical dysphoria. If you are triggered by someone else's dysphoria, or descriptions of dysphoria, you may want to skip from "There were a lot of little steps" to "He hadn't run".

Bucky rolled over, haphazardly patting the sheets in search of their cellphone. Finding it, they pushed the home button and squinted awkwardly at the all too bright light. It was 3:47 AM and they were yet to get anything that resembled sleep. Steve had gone home around eleven and things had seemed to be alright. 

Except there was no way that they could be alright. Bucky hauled themself out of bed and padded downstairs. Steve had been shocked, of course, and Bucky had managed to avoid actually talking about it. They had resumed "normal life", watching a movie and eating pizza until Bucky's mom and the younger girls got home. At that point, Bucky was subjected to a slow form of torture, sandwiched between Steve and Rebecca on the couch. 

The girls wanted to show Bucky what they got. Of course they did. And Bucky was polite and responsive, ooing and awing at all the right things they showed him. Nail polishes, dresses, cardigans and all the things that made a slow jealousy grow in the pit of Bucky's stomach. They must have tensed up at some point because Steve shifted slightly to lean more into them, trying to provide some comfort without being too obvious. And Bucky didn't know how to deal with that.

The fact that Steve hadn't backpedaled out of the room was...boggling. The fact that he'd asked if Bucky was trans, and had basically said that he was going to be there no matter what, more so. Bucky should have expected it, really. They'd been friends for so long, and Steve was such a genuinely good person. But actually hearing him make attempts at being supportive? It flew in the face of all of Bucky's nightmares and that was terrifying for some reason. 

Steve's support meant something about all of this could be valid. 

Bucky sniffled their way through the dark living room and back upstairs to their bedroom. The thought of being valid shouldn't have been scary, really, but it was. It was scary to think that everything they had been feeling could be real. It was scary to even imagine talking to Steve more openly about it. That was a giant leap to take from doing things in secret that seemed to peel away some of the tension and actually _being_ this way. It had taken everything Bucky had to go home and change into the clothes that they had bought for themself. Before that, it had been everything to paint their toe nails and have a little secret as they walked around the normal world. Before that, the decision to grow out their hair...

There were a lot of little steps to get up to this point. Bucky stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of their door and stared at their reflection. A lot of little steps didn't seem to amount to anything when the reflection still looked so wrong. Not that they had any idea of what would look right. Did they want to be more like their mother, their sisters or did they want to be something else entirely? Was it really a woman that they expected or wanted to see there, or... what? They were quietly thankful that Steve hadn't asked "what are your preferred pronouns?" because they honestly wouldn't have been able to cough up an answer that wasn't convoluted and awful. 

"Well, you see, Steve... I think of myself as 'they' a lot because I'm not comfortable with 'he' but I'm afraid of 'she' so."

So. Bucky continued to stare into the mirror, taking in a lungful of air. _Try it out, it can't be that hard. It can't actually be scary. You're just thinking alone. She. She._

She stared into the mirror and wondered about her body and her life. None of what she was feeling actually had anything to do with the clothes that she bought or that she envied that her sisters got to wear. The nail polish she was wearing was insignificant, and even the way her hair curled around her ears... but she couldn't describe what she was feeling if she had to. She tried to imagine talking to Steve about it.

"I look in the mirror and see someone else," she whispered to herself, and that didn't quite sound right. That sounded like she was losing her mind. She chewed her lip, running her hand down her body, "...I look in the mirror and it just... isn't what I expect. But I don't know... what I expect."

Great, that sounded stupid, but it was at the very least more accurate. She didn't know what she actually expected or wanted to see in the mirror. Touching herself in front of the mirror, there was nothing precise about what she wanted or didn't want. Just, difference of expectation and a dreaded inability to articulate what that meant. Her shoulders slumped and she turned away from the mirror. She had started to grow her hair out because she thought that it might ease some of that expectation for difference. She supposed that it did, but at the same time, it made other things more apparent. Her shoulders were too broad (for what?), her hips too narrow (for what?), and her jaw too square. She looked down at her hands. Even her hands...

She couldn't spend time thinking about that. She tipped herself, letting her weight drag her down onto her bed. She couldn't spend time listing everything that was wrong because that always ended badly for her. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong, and everything was hopeless because she would never be able to change anything. That would require actually admitting to what she felt, actually talking to people, and actually doing things outside of the confines of her bedroom. Maybe Steve catching her was for the best. Maybe, but it still felt terrible and embarrassing. Why had she even been trying to put on a bra? It wasn't like she needed one.

Bucky lifted her head and looked towards her dresser, where she had stuffed all of her clothes. Out of sight, still horribly in mind. The bra had been a snap decision. It was plain, black, an A cup. She didn't actually have breasts to fill those cups, but that had been irrelevant in the moment. She had just wanted to. To. Her teeth dug into her lip. She had wanted the experience. _The experience_. That was the worst thing about listening to her mother and sisters coming back from a shopping trip. She could give a shit about the clothes, she wanted the experience. She wanted to closeness that the girls shared, _sisterhood_ , and the easy way their mother related to them. She felt like a martian in comparison, the only "male" in the household. Early on, she had wondered if that was where her feelings were coming from. Maybe she felt ill at ease with being called a boy because she had grown up with so many women? It occurred to her later on that it didn't matter whether or not she was surrounded by girls or boys, she didn't feel like she belonged. 

There were other experiences that the girls got that she knew she never would. Rebecca had gone on a date with a boy from her class, and their mother had been so happy. The younger girls had sneered and joked, but that moment between Rebecca and their mom... Bucky would kill for it. Of course, that would require more talking and explaining what she was feeling. There were more confused thoughts and half formed longings. Whenever she thought about dating, she thought about Steve and the closeness that they shared. She'd have to be a complete idiot to miss the fact that Steve liked her, but that was a problem. Steve liked her as a boy. He'd never said as much, but it was easy to guess and observe. Steve was all eyes for Bucky's body as it was. Bucky couldn't bear the thought of caving in, bringing their relationship to that level, and then disappointing Steve with what she actually was.

He hadn't run, though. He'd said he was supportive. But supportive didn't mean 'I'm still attracted to you but pretending not to be'. 

Bucky's life was turning out to be a fucking mess. She picked the threadbare stuffed rabbit off the shelf above her bed and curled up around it.

• • •

Steve looked almost as tired as Bucky felt, but he gave her a smile in the hallway at school. She had resolved herself to keep using female pronouns when thinking about herself. Just to try it out.

It turned out to be like a bandaid. Now that she had started to think about herself as a her it felt strange to use 'they' and outright repugnant to use 'he'. That was why taking steps was scary. Sometimes, they stuck, and there was no going back. How was she going to cope now?

"Hey, Buck," Steve's voice was deep and gravelly beside her, "how'd you sleep?"

"I didn't, really," Bucky answered, opening her locker, "you look like shit."

"You're so nice to me," Steve chuckled, leaning his back up against the lockers and digging some cough drops out of his pocket, "little wonder you're my best friend."

"I'm a charmer," Bucky smiled weakly, shoving some books in the locker. The fact that Steve was going for cough drops meant that he was probably getting a cold. She got a pang of worry in her chest, but it was accompanied by relief. Maybe he looked like shit because he was sick, not because he'd stayed up all night thinking about the freak show that was his best friend. 

"Mhm. Hey, Buck..." Steve looked around and Bucky felt his heart seize up in his chest. Shit, she was wrong. He had stayed up all night thinking. She swallowed down her panic. 

"Yeah?"

"Is it ok to call you Buck?"

Bucky nodded quickly. She had no idea what else she would be called. Vaguely, she wondered if her insistence on being called Bucky had something to do with being uncomfortable with James. She had started going by Bucky at a young age. It had initially been a nickname, played off of her middle name and the fact that she was ridiculously buck toothed. Now, it felt like a shield. 

"Alright," Steve nodded to himself, sucking on a cough drop, "and, uh..."

"Steve. Not here," Bucky's voice was tight and her tone seemed to jar Steve into looking around him again. He looked at her and nodded, the bags under his eyes punctuating how tired they both were.

"Yeah, sorry. Can I text you?"

Again, Bucky nodded. Texting might be easier. Might be. It did leave behind evidence of a conversation that speaking never did. Speaking aloud, you couldn't scroll back up and over analyze words. Someone walking by couldn't have access to the whole conversation, just overhead snippets that could be played off as something else. She'd delete the texts that Steve sent her. That was going to have to be the way that it was. 

"Alright," Steve reached out and squeezed her arm, "I'll see you at lunch."

• • •

Steve: I stayed up reading last night.

Bucky: Good?

Steve: :( Buck

Bucky: Sorry. What were u reading?

Steve: Trans stuff. 

Bucky: What if I was just crossdressing??

Steve: Were you?

Bucky: Asshole. 

Steve: Your favorite. :)

Steve: What are your preferred pronouns?

Bucky: IDK.

Steve: Ok. Tell me when you know?

• • •

They sat shoulder to shoulder at lunch, in relative silence. Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his skin, wanting to ask Steve what he had been reading. What he was currently reading. He had something pulled up on his smart phone and was occasionally glancing to the side at Bucky. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"What are you reading?"

"Uhh... an article called 'What the Heck is Genderqueer'."

Bucky raised her eyebrows, shuffling a little closer to Steve to read over his shoulder. She was what she would describe as a 'binge reader' when it came to gender issues. She'd get wound up to the point where she felt like she was going to explode, would read everything she could get her hands on at around two or three in the morning. Then she'd cry, and forget everything she'd read or convince herself that it wasn't about her. It was hard for her to focus on the article in Steve's hand, even though he was tilting it so that she could read, too. Finally, she looked away. 

"Huh."

"Interesting," Steve set his phone down and looked at her, leaning his head in his hand, "I'm sorry if I'm being... I don't know. Too much?"

"You're not, I just..." Bucky gestured, as if her hands could convey everything that she was feeling that she couldn't quite get out of her mouth, "I'm not ready."

Steve nodded, leaning against her slightly, "I'm here, when you are."

Bucky couldn't help but lean back into Steve. Maybe, maybe he wouldn't abandon her. Maybe there could be something. Maybe she wouldn't have to be alone through this. Something about that thought lifted her spirits and made it seem more of a possibility rather than some abstract and terrifying notion. She looked at Steve, then slowly reached over, catching his hand in hers. 

He squeezed his fingers around hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What The Heck is Genderqueer?" article is [here](http://www.slate.com/blogs/outward/2015/03/24/genderqueer_what_does_it_mean_and_where_does_it_come_from.html). It isn't a groundbreaking article by far, but it is one Steve would have a chance at searching up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been, uh. Using female pronouns," Bucky's voice cut through their silence, and he flicked his ash again, "in my head. I had been using neutral, but I started thinking in female and it... fits. Right now. Might change. I don't know."
> 
> Steve nodded, letting that sink in. He could make that shift, if that was what Bucky needed. He looked at their hands and very slight squeezed hi--hers. He squeezed her hand. He could do this.

It is well after midnight and neither of them really should be out. There's school tomorrow. But this is an old habit, a tradition, that they started when they were younger. It was easy for them to sneak out of their respective houses at that late hour and meet up on the playground nestled in the center of the suburb. 

Bucky brought cigarettes. Steve brought his inhaler and some cough drops. They both sat on on the swings, Bucky to Steve's left where he could hear him if he decided to speak, and listened to the night. The smell of cigarette smoke, sharp and acrid, wafted over to Steve and he looked to the side. 

He'd always thought of Bucky as being handsome. And he was. Bucky was one of the most attractive guys in their class. If Steve was asked directly, he'd probably say that Bucky was more attractive than any other guy he had laid eyes on. He was going to have to change how he thought about that, in light of everything that Bucky was telling him without actually telling him anything. They'd had the briefest of conversations on their way home from school, riding their bikes side by side. 

"I haven't read a lot," Bucky had started, and it was vague but Steve knew what he was talking about.

"Do you want me to email you what I've found?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've read some things, but... I get scared."

Steve had nodded and they had lapsed into silence. It was a silence that seemed to pick up now as Steve watched Bucky spin the swing he was sitting in, cigarette clasped gently between his lips. He watched the way that Bucky's feet pushed against the ground, how his hair swiped across his face. Bucky was more than handsome. Bucky was beautiful. He could change the words he used to describe the same thing. He could change how he thought to accommodate Bucky. Bucky deserved it. 

"Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"...You're beautiful."

Bucky stopped spinning the swing and looked at him, the cigarette hanging down off of his lip. Some of his dark hair was hanging down over his forehead. 

"C'mon, Stevie. Don't--"

"But I mean it. You're beautiful," Steve pressed on, "I want you to hear that, from me, ok? I think... it is about time I tell you what I think."

Bucky was still staring at him, but one of his eyebrows had gone up. They'd had some brief conversations about sexuality and attraction before. As it applied to other people. Steve knew that Bucky was attracted to men. He sometimes sent pictures of Bucky's favorite actors to him in a text message just to tease him. His own attraction seemed more complicated. Men were alright, he could visually appreciate a man. Women were alright, too. He could visually appreciate a woman. He supposed that that made him bisexual, though he wasn't terribly certain about the sexual part of it. When he looked at the pictures of actors that he sent to Bucky, he felt more of a compulsion to draw the way their muscles moved not... lick them. He still remembered that text, that Bucky had sent him back. 'I want to lick his abs.' It was a foreign thought to Steve. He wasn't even sure that he necessarily felt sexually attracted to Bucky. He wanted to be close to him. He wanted the comfort that he provided. He was probably getting too wrapped up in his own head. 

"Thanks," Bucky wasn't looking at him. All of those thoughts had gone through his head in a split second. Steve watched the other boy take the cigarette from his mouth and flick the ash away, "...I appreciate it, Steve. I do. I'm just... not sure what to do."

"You don't have to do anything. I think you're beautiful. I want. Um. It is hard to explain, I want to...hold you. When we held hands today? That. That was good."

They were back to staring at each other awkwardly. Bucky nodded slowly, reaching his free hand out for Steve's. Steve knit their fingers together, and the silence resumed. It didn't really have to mean anything in that moment. They agreed to touch, to be close. If there was going to be more, it would work itself out in time. 

"I've been, uh. Using female pronouns," Bucky's voice cut through their silence, and he flicked his ash again, "in my head. I had been using neutral, but I started thinking in female and it... fits. Right now. Might change. I don't know."

Steve nodded, letting that sink in. He could make that shift, if that was what Bucky needed. He looked at their hands and very slight squeezed hi--hers. He squeezed her hand. He could do this.

"Alright. I can use them, too."

"Just...when we're together. I'm not ready for more."

He squeezed her hand again, "Got it. I can...try and avoid pronouns, when we're around people?"

"You're gunna get tired of saying my name."

"I like saying your name."

Bucky's smile was easy for the first time in days, and Steve loved it. He wanted to run around the playground with her, spin her on the merry-go-round, anything to make her laugh and keep smiling. What she was dealing with was something he couldn't quite comprehend but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try.

"Oh, baby," Bucky chuckled around the cigarette, taking a few more puffs off of it before smashing it under her foot. She shook her head, "All of this seems like it is happening really fast now. I've been fucking kicking this around in my head for awhile, and even talking about it now... I don't know."

"I'm here to listen, Buck."

"...Yeah. I'm getting used to that. I want to try...uh, getting used to you saying she and see how I feel about it, but I don't know. I don't know what I want."

"You don't have to have concrete answers. Not for me," Steve turned more in the swing to face her, pushing his feet into the sand, "I'm going to accept you, however you are, alright? That's what friends do."

They lapsed into silence again, Steve twisting slowly in the swing and Bucky shoving at the sand with her toe. Now that he was making the conscious effort to think of Bucky with female pronouns it was...easy. He could look at her and think of how _she_ was doing things. That weirdness about calling her the "other boy" was fading. He smiled faintly. 

"Bucky is going to get sand in her shoes."

Bucky dipped her head and Steve knew that she was blushing. He continued, "She's going to get sand in her shoes, and in her sock, and then I'm going to have to listen to her bitch about it all night."

"You're a dick."

Steve laughed and pressed on, seeing the ghost of a smile returning to Bucky's lips, "Bucky looks really beautiful tonight. I wish that she'd smile more. I like seeing her smile."

Bucky raised her head and made a face at him which started them both laughing. Steve decided that he had done the right thing. They played on the swings for awhile longer before they parted ways and went home. Steve bundled himself into bed and curled around his cellphone. 

Steve: Sleep well.

Bucky: U too. 

Steve: Thank you for trusting me. 

Bucky: Thank u for not freaking out.

Steve: I'd be a real asshole if I did.

Bucky: Well, u r an asshole.

Steve: You're the asshole!

Bucky: :P

Steve: I mean it when I tell you you're beautiful. You're the most beautiful girl I know. 

Bucky: Dunno if I am a girl. 

Steve: Most beautiful person.

Bucky: Sap. 

Steve: I think the words you're looking for are "thank you for your honesty, Steve"

Bucky: Ur a fucking sap. Good night. 

Steve reached over and plugged his phone into the charger. He tucked his pillow under his head and stared at the ceiling, trying to get all the pieces to go together in his head. He loved Bucky, that was all that really mattered, and he'd do whatever he had to to make her comfortable. He rolled around in bed a few times, unable to get comfortable, before he got up and grabbed his sketchbook from his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is probably demisexual in this, or gray ace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, shit, Buck...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Are you ok? I'm sorry," Steve's hands were on her shoulders, trying to turn her away from the mirror. She resisted, opening her eyes and looking at her now tearful reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful, encouraging, comments. <3

The temperatures were in the 90s and graduation was around the corner. Bucky had her head nestled against Steve's stomach as they sprawled across her bed, basking in the air conditioning. It was the weekend and that meant that Steve was going to be spending the night with her. She had desperately been trying not to psyche herself out about having Steve over throughout the week. Steve _always_ came over on the weekends. The only difference now was that Steve knew something about her he hadn't before and well, they'd gotten closer because of it. 

Netflix was on, but neither of them were watching the show they'd deliberated over. Steve was running his fingers through Bucky's hair and Bucky was... tensely existing, probably over analyzing the touch and everything that had happened over the last week. She let out a puff of breath. 

"You ok, Buck?"

"Yeah, just...you know."

So many of their conversations had become stilted like this. Bucky was quietly grateful that Steve seemed to pick up on what she needed or was trying to say. He pulled his hand out of her hair, dropping it to her shoulder. Silent reassurance that he was there and she could continue when she needed to. 

"I want to put the skirt on for you. But I don't want you to think all of this is just about the clothes."

"I'm not an idiot, Buck. I don't think that. If you want to put the skirt on, do it. Do you want me to leave the room while you change?"

Bucky shook her head and sat up. She looked down at Steve, taking in the way he was looking at her. His blue eyes were soft, curious but understanding. She wanted to hug him close to her chest and thank him for being as understanding as he was being. She'd gone from being terrified that he knew to needing him to know and relying on that understanding. She hadn't realized how much she had been craving him knowing about that part of her. She got off the bed and walked over to her dresser, pulling out the clothes that she had stashed in the bottom drawer. She kept her back turned to Steve while she stripped. She didn't really fear Steve staring at her. He either would, or more likely, he'd politely look away. It wasn't a concern. She pulled on her soft gray leggings and the navy blue skirt before her hands touched the bra that she had been trying to put on. 

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind...?"

Steve was by her side in an instant, as if he had been waiting to be asked for help. He tugged the clasps behind her back, his slender artist's fingers working the hooks together quickly. Bucky ran her fingers underneath the straps of the bra to straighten it out, still not wanting to turn around and face Steve. She quickly grabbed the gray shirt that went along with the outfit and pulled it on. 

"You look good, Buck."

That made her turn around. She turned and met Steve's eyes, but she couldn't help but feel ridiculous. There she was, her hips too narrow, her shoulders too broad, her hands too big... and Steve was looking at her like she was anything but ridiculous. He reached out and curled some of her hair behind her ear. 

"Do you have any makeup?" Steve's voice was low and soft, "I mean, besides that red lip gloss."

"You're a dick," Bucky breathed, but she was quick to turn from him and reach back into the dresser drawer. She had a small bag in there, containing makeup that had gone missing from Rebecca's collection. Some concealer, eye shadow, and a blush. Eye liner. The cherry red lip gloss that Steve was teasing her about. Steve gently took the bag out of her hands, looking down into it. 

"Can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Can I...do your makeup? I mean, it really can't be that different from drawing."

They ended up sitting on Bucky's bed, the makeup bag in Steve's lap. Bucky had her eyes closed while Steve dabbed the concealer against her face. She made a soft sound of protest, "Go easy on it."

"I'm going easy on it. You have acne."

"Asshole."

"Honest to god truth. I have acne, too. I'm dabbing, I promise. Just...relax."

"I'm as relaxed as I can be with you caking it on."

"And we haven't even gotten to the sharp implements near your eyeballs yet."

Bucky felt the soft brush from the blush over her cheeks. She briefly thought to tell Steve that she should be hollowing her cheeks out, but she keeps her mouth shut. The fact that he was doing this in the first place was fascinating and touching. If she let herself dwell on it too much, she was afraid she'd start crying. 

Steve's fingers were on her jaw a moment later, "I need you to be really, really still while I do this, ok? Open your eyes."

It was terrifying enough to put eyeliner on herself and a completely different experience to have Steve do it. She looked up at the ceiling, but she could still see him with a distinct look of concentration on his face while he ran the pencil's tip against her lower lid. Then the upper lid. She knew it wasn't going to be the best job at eye liner just from how he was using the pencil, but he was doing it _for_ her. 

"Well, that's something," Steve sat back and looked at her, "you're beautiful, but I can tell you I don't have a career ahead of me as a beautician."

Bucky scoffed and got off the bed, making her way to the bathroom attached to her room. When she looked at her reflection, she half wanted to cry and half wanted to laugh. Of course, she had put makeup on herself. She'd watched some YouTube videos and had learned some tricks. Steve was unpracticed but. It meant something. She put her hand over her face, her shoulders shaking while her emotions warred against one another.

"Oh, shit, Buck...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Are you ok? I'm sorry," Steve's hands were on her shoulders, trying to turn her away from the mirror. She resisted, opening her eyes and looking at her now tearful reflection.

"I'm fine. It. Yeah, you're never going to be a beautician, Stevie. But, I'm not upset."

Steve's face looked doubtful in the reflection over her shoulder. He slipped his arms around her comfortably, hooked his chin on her shoulder and stared back at her in the mirror. 

"I won't be offended if you are upset at me."

"You made me look like a sad clown, Steve."

"Nah, more like... washed up actress who didn't get the memo that the 80's are over."

They both laughed, Steve's arms tightening around her waist. 

"Thanks, Steve. I need bigger hair, though."

"Yeah, just a bit. Buck, you know... you're beautiful, even if you are a washed up 80's actress. I'd cast you in my movie."

More laughter. Bucky found herself relaxing back against him, grinning when she felt him nuzzle against the side of her neck. She looked terrible, he'd done a poor job, but she felt good. She felt right, with him holding her and laughing with her at what showed up in the mirror.

"I'm going to have to ask you to go to YouTube for some tutorials before you ever touch my face with makeup again, Steve," Bucky finally murmured, petting Steve's arms around her, "I like that you did it. Even if it is shitty."

"Pfft, fine. Fine. I'll go find tutorials and I will become a beautician, just you watch."

Bucky smiled, shaking her head, "I'm doing you, too, next time."

"So, let me understand this," Steve's smile was easy in the mirror, "there's going to be a next time, you already have expectations for that next time, and you're going to doll me up too?"

"Mhmm."

"I can deal with it."

Bucky washed her face, Steve's hand on her back the whole time, and they went back to the bed. Steve flopped down, holding his arms out to her, and Bucky resumed nestling her head against his stomach. His fingers were back in her hair again and she felt peaceful. To hell with her reflection, she was feeling more correct in herself than she ever had before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not a girl. This is so messed up, there's something so wrong with me," Bucky's voice was muffled against his shoulder. Steve pulled back, looking her in the face, reaching up to rub some of her tears away with his thumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internalized transphobia is a major theme in this chapter. Also warning for physical dysphoria.

Evening came and the two were still sprawled on Bucky's bed, though their positions had changed. Bucky was on her stomach, reading something on her phone and Steve had his head propped against her hip. He'd dozed off, surrounded by the scent and comfort of her, content to just exist beside her. That was all he needed, he didn't care how she came to him. Waking up, he sniffed and stretched, bapping his hand up her back until he could tangle his fingers in her hair. 

"Watch it," Buck protested, wiggling underneath Steve's head, "you're pulling my hair."

"Meant to," he yawned and turned over, pushing his head against Bucky's shoulder, "I meant to show you something, then the whole make up thing, and Bob's Burgers... and sleeping, apparently."

"You snored. I forgave you and tried not to give into the temptation to fart on you."

"So ladylike," the comment rolled off of Steve's tongue before he even really gave it thought and the two of them looked at each other as if astounded at how easy it was to fall into these roles. Like things had always been this way. 

"Damn straight it is ladylike. What were you going to show me?"

Steve rolled himself further, getting off the bed and going to where his backpack was discarded by the door. He pulled his sketchbook out and made his way back to her, "I had an idea last night, that I wanted to draw you. Um. So you know how I see you? Shit, it sounds stupid."

Bucky sat up on the bed, looking at the sketchbook curiously. An impish smile started to tug at the corner of her lips, "Is it anime?"

"It isn't fucking anime. Why do you always ask that?"

"Because it bothers you. I want to see."

Steve glared at her, but flipped the sketchbook open, pushing it into her hands before he could have any second thoughts. He had used a picture that he really liked from Bucky's Facebook as a reference. Of course, he'd taken some liberties -- in the picture, Bucky's hair was short, but Steve had drawn it even longer than it was now. He'd made minor adjustments, softening her face just slightly, getting rid of the trace of stubble, darkening around her eyes so it looked like she was wearing eye liner and mascara. 

Bucky was staring and Steve felt his stomach crawl with anxiety. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe he should have just kept the drawing to himself. He was a good artist, but he was always paranoid about likenesses and that the person would get upset about how they looked. Bucky's hand flickered up to her face, feeling her jaw. 

"That's...wow. Steve. That's great," Bucky's voice sounded oddly flat and she handed the sketchbook back. The anxiety grew heavier in Steve's chest, making his heart beat faster.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't actually look like that," Bucky voiced Steve's fear. He'd failed at a likeness, and had upset the person he had drawn. He swallowed hard, looking down at the drawing in his hands. 

"I'm sorry."

"It is really good, but. I don't look like that. I'm not that. Not that pretty."

"Yeah, you are, Buck. That's why I drew it. I wanted you to see--"

"Fuck," Bucky interrupted him. She was on her feet, shaking, running her hands through her hair. It was the exact opposite of what Steve had expected from showing her the drawing and everything he could have possibly worried about. He watched her pacing, horribly aware of everything about her that cued to how upset she was. She was still shaking, rubbing tears out of her eyes. 

"What... what did I do, Bucky?"

"I _wish_ I looked like that, but I don't. I fucking don't. My jaw isn't like that, it is a fucking square as hell and I always have a five o'clock shadow. Fuck."

Steve looked down at the drawing in his hands and felt like an idiot. Of course Bucky would be upset. The little changes that Steve had made that he thought would make her feel better had just drawn attention to the fact that she couldn't actually change them. He chewed his lip, feeling his teeth catching in the flesh. He'd fucked up. Boy, had he fucked up. He set the sketchbook aside and stood, catching Bucky by the shoulders when she came near him.

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry. Buck, I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I just wanted to give you something and I didn't think. Look at me, please?"

She did, and her eyes were all tears and distant storms. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and Steve regretted everything about his decision to draw her. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, "Listen, Buck. Listen to me. I drew what I drew because I thought it'd make you feel better. You're beautiful to me, no matter what shape your jaw is."

"This is all a fucking joke," Bucky's voice broke, and then she was really crying. Steve immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head into the crook of his neck. He could feel her hot tears against his skin and it broke his heart. This was absolutely not what he had intended. He smoothed his hand up and down her back, trying to think of how he could make it better. 

"It isn't a joke. It isn't a joke at all. How you feel is very real, and I want to support you. I'm so, so sorry that I upset you. I should have thought about it more. I'm so sorry, Buck. Please..."

"I'm not a girl. This is so fucked up, there's something so wrong with me," Bucky's voice was muffled against his shoulder. Steve pulled back, looking her in the face, reaching up to rub some of her tears away with his thumb.

"There's nothing wrong with you, please. Please, there's nothing wrong with you. You're whatever you say you are, alright? If you tell me you're a girl, you're a girl. If you tell me you're neither, you're neither. I don't care, I'm going to be here and I'm going to agree with you that you're whatever you say you are."

Bucky sniffed hard, eyes flicking from Steve to the closed sketchbook. Her shoulders slumped slightly, "You said that's how you see me. But you can't see me like that, 'cause I don't look like that."

Steve sighed, "Yeah, maybe I didn't phrase that right. I just wanted to show you that you're beautiful to me, but I--"

"I don't look like that."

"Let me finish, ok? I made some changes that I thought would make you feel better, and I was wrong. I can change it, the drawing isn't fixed or anything. You're beautiful to me how you are, ok?"

"You'd like me more if I looked like your drawing," Bucky's voice was quiet, almost swallowed up in more tears that were threatening to come, "everyone would. Everyone would believe me more, and I wouldn't have to be afraid about not being believed."

It was now or never. Steve raised his hands to her face, cupping her jaw in his hand. He looked at her tearful eyes, glanced at her lips and leaned in for the kiss. Bucky's lips were soft and a little salty due to the fact that she'd been crying. Her hands fluttered at his hips then settled as she kissed him back. The whole thing could only have lasted a few seconds, at most, but it felt like a soft and sweet eternity that Steve could get lost in. 

"Listen to me, Buck," he murmured, still so close to her lips, "nothing is going to change the fact that you're beautiful to me, ok? And nothing is going to make me doubt you when you say you feel one way or another. I like you. I wouldn't like you more if you did look like my drawing, but I wouldn't like you any less either, ok? I'd like you just as much. I'd like you more if you were happy, and that's what I want, ok? I want you to be happy. I want to help you be happy and I fucked up real bad here, but I want to keep trying. Do you understand? You could... you could have a full fucking lumberjack beard and I'd still be here, asking you to be my girlfriend."

Bucky stared at him with wide eyes. So Steve cleared his throat and continued, "Or, you could be clean shaven, wearing a pink leotard and I'd want you to be my boyfriend if you told me you were a guy, alright? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to me, what you are, how you dress, how much hair you have. You matter. Got it?"

"Could I have a beard and a leotard?"

"Only if you wear the red lip gloss," Steve smiled at her, stealing another kiss from her lips, "So, what do you say? Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Were you going to ask me out with the drawing or is this 'cause you upset me?" there was doubt in Bucky's voice, and Steve suppose he couldn't blame her. He smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. 

"I was planning on asking you out a few days from now, but the moment seemed right. Sorry if it is too much."

"Stop apologizing for being too much, Steve."

They fall into silence again, occasionally kissing, holding on to each other. It was all that Steve wanted. To be close to Bucky, to hold her in his arms and kiss her. He could continue like that for the rest of the evening, so long as he got to see her smile. She rested her head against his, her solid body relaxing slowly in his arms. 

"Yeah, I think I'll be your girlfriend," her voice was more even now, but still a quiet sigh against his shoulder. He tightened his hold on her, murmuring gratitude to the skin he could kiss. He'd fucked up, but things had a way of working out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky found herself mirroring his posture, watching his face while he spoke. He had a way of parsing words that made her feel better, but this one wasn't being put to rest easily. It was nagging at her, clawing at her sense of self. 
> 
> "Hard not to think about it," she muttered, "I really want to belong somewhere, and I feel like I'm just short of real. I want to feel real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of sex, sexuality and genitalia in this chapter. Misgendering.

"Happy birthday to you," Bucky whispered against Steve's ear, curled around him in the early morning, "happy birthday to you... happy birthday, dear Stevie... happy birthday to you."

Steve smiled sleepily, shifting back against her and hugging her arm around him tighter, "Mm. Time?"

"Seven fifteen. Sorry, I got a problem with sleeping in," Bucky chuckled and nuzzled her face against Steve's shoulder. Sleeping curled into each other had become a routine since Steve had asked her to be his girlfriend. Before, they had slept close together, but nothing like the careless tangle of limbs that they indulged in now. Steve was warm and comfortable in her arms, smelling like sleep and Listerine. 

"Mind if I sleep in? Being my birthday and all," his voice was lower than normal in the morning, mildly gravely and perfect in Bucky's ears. She nodded against his shoulder, snugging him tighter against herself.

"Yeah, of course."

It didn't take Steve long to fall back asleep. She could tell when it happened because he relaxed just slightly and his breathing evened out. She indulged herself in kissing his shoulder through his t shirt and letting her mind wander. She was distantly aware of the sounds of Steve's foster parents getting up and making themselves breakfast. They both worked, but they had promised that they were going to do something special for Steve's birthday. It was probably going to be dinner and the fireworks, like it had been for years. The fact that it was Steve's 18th birthday and should have been something more special didn't seem to phase them, but perhaps Bucky wasn't giving them enough credit. Their sounds eventually faded with the closing of the front door and the rumble of a car's engine. 

Which left Bucky and Steve alone in the small house. Her attention went back to the warm body in her arms. There was no point of his body that was not touching hers. His shoulders were pressed up against her chest, and his ass was pushed up against her crotch in a way that was hard to ignore. As often as they slept like this, Bucky struggled to keep herself from physically reacting. There was a plenitude of reasons behind the struggle. To begin with, she wasn't sure how Steve would react to feeling her against him. They'd kissed and held each other, slept like this, but that was as far as things went. It didn't really seem like Steve had an interest in going further, and that was its own can of worms. She could easily sit and obsess about whether or not it was about her identity, her body, her hygiene... the list could go on and go and she'd still wonder. 

She also struggled with the fact that she didn't know how to react to her own arousal since she had started to readjust her mindset around "she". Everything that she read seemed to suggest that she should be ashamed of her body, that she should hate the parts of herself that made her "male", but something about that didn't quite sit right with her. There were plenty of times that she looked in the mirror and found herself unhappy with her proportions, wishing that she had softer curves, or breasts, or more supple skin. Her wishes never really seemed to extend between her legs, and she had started to believe that this somehow meant she was Wrong. Maybe she was Wrong about how she felt in the first place and she was just pretending at this identity. 

Thinking about all of that, thankfully, made her the furthest thing from aroused. She sighed and rolled on her back, looking up at the ceiling. 

"Mm'alright?" Steve's sleepy voice came from beside her and she nodded before thinking to verbally reassure him. It was his birthday. He didn't need to be troubled with her bullshit on his birthday. 

He seemed to have different ideas. Steve rolled over, snugging up against her, his leg going over hers and his arm wrapping around her chest, "What's wrong, baby?"

She loved it when he called her baby. He'd started to the day after the established that they were actually dating. It had been a joke, but then it had kind of stuck. Every time, it made her heart soft. 

"Just... my bullshit, you know. Don't worry about it, ok? Today's your day."

"Glad it is my day, it means I get to worry about what I wanna. Tell me what's wrong?"

Bucky looked at him and sighed, chewing her lip before she was able to say anything, "I was just thinking. About sex. And shit."

"Not into that combination," Steve muttered and it startled a laugh out of Bucky. She shook her head, pushing him back a little so that she could look into his face. 

"You're such a punk. I mean. Do you ever think about sex?"

"Not really," Steve pursed his lips after he answered her, "it isn't really on the list of priorities for me, you know? I have college to think about, and you, getting a job. It doesn't really come up."

"I meant with me. Do you ever think about having sex with me?" Bucky hated the hesitation and near fear that she heard in her own voice. She could tell that Steve heard it too because of how his brow creased. 

"...I don't know. I think about kissing you, and holding you. Being with you like this. I like those things. It is hard for me to even really think of what sex would be like."

Bucky found herself chewing her lip. She had secretly hoped that her prompting would get an admission out of Steve that he struggled just as much as she did with being close but not doing anything. What she got was really just confirmation that he wasn't as interested as she was. She couldn't help herself and blurted out, "Is it because I'm not really a girl?"

"What?" Steve's brows went up, "Why would it -- that doesn't make sense, Buck."

They stared at each other until Steve continued, "It has nothing to do with you really being a girl. Which, by the way, I disagree with what you said about not really being a girl. It isn't anything like that. I just don't think about sex. I'm not grossed out by it or anything but it isn't something that comes up. Kinda like I don't really think about football? That's. That's not a good comparison, just ignore it."

"Sex is like football."

"Lots of tight pants and protective helmets," Steve smirked at Bucky and she knew that he was trying to get her to laugh. It almost works. She felt her lips tugging upwards in a helpless kind of smile. 

"I want to have sex with you," she said after a beat, "not right now. But eventually?"

"We don't have the tight pants or protective helmets," Steve propped himself up on his arm, looking down at her, "but, yeah. Eventually, I'd be ok with that. Don't get mad at me if I don't initiate, ok? Like I said, it isn't something that really crosses my mind."

Bucky nodded, reaching out to brush her fingers against Steve's arm, "You're positive it isn't because of, well. Me?"

"Absolutely certain."

"I feel kind of like an impostor," there was something about Steve's earnestness that inspired the blurts in her, "because when I think about sex, I don't... feel bad about my penis. I don't fantasize about having a vagina."

It took a moment for Steve to formulate a response, "Why does that make you feel like an impostor?"

"Because if I'm really trans, I should be grossed out or ashamed, right? I shouldn't like. What I have."

"You're right, they're going to come and take your card away, Buck."

"Steve."

"I don't really think you need to be worrying about whether or not you're 'valid'. You need to worry about what feels right and what makes you happy. Not things like this, that upset you."

Bucky found herself mirroring his posture, watching his face while he spoke. He had a way of parsing words that made her feel better, but this one wasn't being put to rest easily. It was nagging at her, clawing at her sense of self. 

"Hard not to think about it," she muttered, "I really want to belong somewhere, and I feel like I'm just short of real. I want to feel real."

"You're real," Steve reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, "the most real thing I know."

"That... was completely, utterly, sappy," Bucky couldn't help but smile, and tilted her head to be able to kiss Steve's hand, "don't distract me with sappy. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I think so," Steve leaned over to kiss her, "but I'm not you. I still say you're as real as real can be, and all of that sappy shit you hate. I'm in your corner, and I don't think you should worry about it right now. And you know, it is my birthday so I'm automatically right."

Bucky started to laugh, pulling him close and kissing him again. She was going to worry about it, about being real, but for the moment she would have to set it aside. They spent the day together in Steve's house, waiting for his parents to get home so that their birthday plans could proceed. While they were alone together, they were in their own little protective bubble. That bubble popped so easily when other people were factored into the equation.

"Boys!" the first pop came in the form of Steve's foster mother's voice calling to them as she came through the front door, "We're home!"

Steve gave her an apologetic look and opened his door to call back, "We'll be down in a moment, mom!"

Bucky's shoulders slumped slightly and Steve shot her an apologetic look. They made sure that they both looked presentable and innocent before they headed down the stairs, Bucky on Steve's heels. It was like he'd suspected. Steve's parents were going to take them out to dinner and then to go and see the fireworks. Before they left for the restaurant, they gave Steve a handful of presents. Sketchbooks, gift cards, a video game Steve had asked for. Steve hugged Bucky tight when he opened her present -- a book he had been eyeing for months on tattooing practices around the world. It made Steve's parents tut, but that was worth it for the tight hug and the smile Steve had on his face.

Bucky missed being alone with Steve every time his parents referred to her as "he". Where was he going to college? What did he want to do with his life? What were his summer plans? Bucky smiled through it all, quietly grateful for Steve's hand on her leg underneath the table. It wasn't like she wasn't used to it, she went home to the same kind of treatment and got male pronouns wherever she went. But it just seemed more oppressive if she had had the opportunity to spend more time alone with Steve where she was she and that was that. 

By the time they got back from the fireworks, Bucky was absolutely drained. She trudged upstairs with Steve, happy to pour herself into his computer chair once the door was closed behind them. 

"I'm sorry, baby," Steve reached over to run her fingers through her hair, "I know that was tough."

"Don't worry about it," she scooted to the edge of the chair and wrapped her arms around Steve's hips, burying her face against his stomach. It got a chuckle out of him and she inhaled his scent, "I love you, Steve."

"I love you, too, Buck," she could hear Steve's smile and felt a warm sense of relief when he stooped to hug her, however awkwardly.

"Happy birthday, punk."

"Best one yet, jerk."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching her swim was worth the risk of getting caught. She'd stripped down to her boxers. They were a clingy ill-substitute for actual swim gear. Steve ended up sitting on the side of the pool with his feet in the water because he wasn't as comfortable as Bucky was with stripping down somewhere that could potentially involved other people. He rarely went out without his shirt on, afraid of the way that people would look at his ribs or the curve of his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussion of medical stuff, body dysphoria, the Temptations lyrics.

Steve watched Bucky as she waded in the pool, pushing her wet hair out of her face. They'd snuck away from the party down to the apartment complex's pool. Steve had been reluctant to go along, worried that someone would catch them or that they'd be missed, but Bucky had insisted.

And Steve always ended up going along with something if Bucky insisted. 

Watching her swim was worth the risk of getting caught. She'd stripped down to her boxers. They were a clingy ill-substitute for actual swim gear. Steve ended up sitting on the side of the pool with his feet in the water because he wasn't as comfortable as Bucky was with stripping down somewhere that could potentially involved other people. He rarely went out without his shirt on, afraid of the way that people would look at his ribs or the curve of his spine. 

Bucky didn't have that hesitation. Even with all that Steve had learned in the past few months. He admired her comfort in her own skin. 

"You got that look on your face, Stevie," her voice drew him out of his thoughts and he smiled at her. 

"I was just thinking about you."

"Better be something good."

"Oh, it is. I was just thinking... how I admire you. How comfortable you are with your body."

"Uhhh," Bucky stared at him while she ran her fingers through her wet hair, "comfortable, huh?"

"More than me."

Bucky snorted and Steve kicked some water at her, "Fact! Who's in the pool in her underwear, huh?"

"Me wanting to swim has nothing to do with how comfortable I am with my body, Steve," Bucky propped herself against the edge of the pool and looked up at him, "I don't really have an alternative."

"I wouldn't be caught dead naked. Or shirtless. You're not like that. I've seen you strip in front of people at pool parties. I saw you get naked like it was nothing in gym class while I was trying to figure out how to artfully arrange locker doors," Steve looked down at her, reaching to touch her cheek, "and I admire that. You're not ashamed."

"I don't know," Bucky leaned her face into Steve'e hand, "I didn't feel like there was anything to be ashamed of. I still don't. But I wouldn't say I'm comfortable."

Steve nodded, resting his hand on her arm, "What would you change? You know, if you could."

Bucky pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly, "What would _you_ change?"

"I wouldn't have scoliosis, for one thing, or asthma," Steve lifted his hands so he could start counting off what he would change on his fingers, "I wouldn't be deaf in one ear. I wouldn't be diabetic. I wouldn't have a bad heart. I wouldn't be anemic. I'd want to be healthy."

"Well, of course," Bucky said and Steve could feel her eyes on him, "but none of that has anything to do with how you _look_ to other people or yourself, you know? Of course you'd want to be healthy."

That gave Steve a pause. He found himself looking at the pool's water, watching how light reflected off the surface and up around them. What would he change about himself... he curled his toes in the water.

"I'd be taller," he started to muse aloud, "I'd probably want, you know. Muscles."

Bucky laughed quietly and he looked back down at her, watching her lips while she spoke, "Tall and muscular. Oh, baby, Stevie. You'd be able to win the fights you get into."

"What are you talking about? I already win the fights I get into!" Steve couldn't help but smile at her, "I'm a boxing champion!"

Their laughter died down after a few moments and Bucky finally spoke up, "I'd want...a softer figure. Soft edges, round hips. Um. A softer jaw. Jury is out on breasts."

"What's the jury deliberating on?" Steve asked as he eased himself down to lay on his stomach so he could be more eye to eye with Bucky in the pool. She wrinkled her nose at him and splashed a little bit of water over the edge.

"They seem like such a hassle. You always gotta calm your tits. I mean, if something takes so much calming, it can't be easy to deal with."

Steve stared at her and then stated to laugh again, "Fuck you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned and held up her hands, "I'm serious about them seeming like a hassle! There's bras, and seat belts not sitting right and things getting stuck in there. Like movie popcorn. Listen. I've heard things from my sisters."

"Popcorn?"

"Popcorn. I witnessed it myself. We went to the movies, and when we got home, Becca was complaining about itching. She reached in her shirt, and voila. Popcorn."

"Snacks for later," Steve reached in the pool and splashed a little bit of water at her, "we could try something?"

"What?"

"When we get back to your place," Steve looked at her seriously, "put on your bra. We'll stuff it and see how you feel about how breasts _look_."

Bucky stared at him with something like an incredulous expression before she asked, "How do _you_ feel about how breasts look?"

"I don't know that it is about my opinion, Buck. They're nice, I guess, but nothing to write home about. I think it would be different, on you."

"Nothing to write home... Steve, how would a letter like that go? Dear ma and pa, these titties...they're bangin'."

Steve broke out into laughter again, burying his face in his arms. He could hear Bucky chuckling, a deep sound that was beautiful to his ears, reverberating off the surface of the water and the concrete around them. 

"That's exactly how it'd go," he finally managed, his face still buried in his arms, "oh, man. Fuck you."

Bucky splashed water on him, making him squeak and sit up. She was smiling, and he felt his heart soften at the sight. There was nothing like seeing Bucky smile, even if that shit eating grin came as the result of her own jokes. He wished that he could see that true and radiant smile all the time. 

They were interrupted by the sound of the pool gate and the beam of a flashlight. Bucky pulled herself out of the pool faster than Steve had ever seen her move. He hastily grabbed her clothes from the deck chair beside them and they both ran for the fence. They'd had plenty of practice climbing fences to get away from the guys that Steve pissed off. Bucky was over first, flipping herself over the top with an almost gymnastic precision. Steve tossed her clothes over before he followed, far more clumsily. So clumsy, in fact, that he caught his ankle at the top of the fence and tipped himself over. He had one paralyzing instant where he was sure that this was it, this was how he was going to die, face to concrete scrambling out of a apartment complex pool. 

Bucky's strong, muscular, arms wrapped around him and saved him from smashing his teeth into the earth. She set him down, grabbed her clothes up and started running. He was fast on her heels, though he could feel their exertions starting to burn up his lungs. They stopped when he started to wheeze.

"Well," he coughed, "I think we've officially left the party."

"You're telling me. You alright, sweety?" the pet name rolled off Bucky's tongue and Steve looked up at her, smiling despite how tight his chest felt.

"Sweety?"

"Don't give me shit, Rogers. I'm worried about you."

"Sweety...pie. Honeybunch," Steve coughed and wheezed through the lyrics, reaching for his inhaler, "you know that I love you..."

Bucky cut him a glare that could have killed a man, but he kept on, using his inhaler while he sang softly to her. It came out awkward, punctuated by deep gulps of breath, but it was getting his heart to slow back to normal and his lungs to cooperate. 

When he was breathing normally, she leaned in and kissed him firmly. He found himself raising his hands up to touch her still damp sides, skirting over her skin and feeling the goosebumps there. It wasn't like their usual kisses. He felt like it was more important, and like Bucky was pouring more of herself into it than usual. When she broke it, she leaned her forehead against his.

"I am so fucking lucky to have you, Steve."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We need to talk, James," her mom finally spoke, breaking the spell of awkwardness, "right now. Change your clothes and come downstairs. You too, Steve."
> 
> She set the laundry basket down and closed the door with a finality that made Bucky certain that things were coming to an end much faster than she was prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussions of sex, sexuality and asexuality. Another example of why Bucky needs to learn to lock her door. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading, bookmarking, subscribing and giving kudos! These kinds of things are very encouraging and I'm glad that you're enjoying the story. A lot of this is really conversation heavy, and I'm indulging myself in it because I feel like I don't see enough frank conversations about identity between characters.

Bucky cradled her head in her arms, closing her eyes against the sunlight. Cicadas were buzzing in the distance, and it only seemed to make the heat of the day audible. 

"Before we started dating," the words seemed to come out of her unbidden and she scrunched up her face as she listened to herself, "I used to think you were staring at my body, like you were attracted to me because of how I looked."

"And now?" Steve's head was on her stomach. He sounded drowsy. 

"I don't think you're attracted to me."

There was a pause. Steve shifted against her slightly, "I don't think I'd put it like that."

"You love me," Bucky cracked open an eye to look at him, "I'm not doubting that. But I don't think you're attracted to me. I think when you were looking at me, and I was seeing attraction, it was really...I don't know."

The silence stretched on between them. Steve cleared his throat, "I'm not really attracted to _anyone_ , Buck, so don't get offended on me, please? I like looking at you, sure, but it is because I love you."

"You like looking at those ugly sculptures in the park, too."

"I love 'em," Steve turned on his side so that his face was pointing in her direction. There was a tired look in his eyes but a smile on his lips, "What can I say? Looking at you isn't the same as looking at an ugly sculpture. I like looking at you because. Well. You're my girl. You're my friend. You're comforting, and just. Feel like home?"

Bucky reached out to card her fingers through his hair, "I'm not offended. I'm adjusting to it. I love you, and you're doing so much for me. Only fair I do the same for you."

"I don't work on a system of exchanges, Buck. I'm all or nothing. I love you, so I love all of you, that's that."

Bucky smiled, keeping her fingers in Steve's hair. Even though the sun was shining on her face, she kept her eyes open so that she could keep looking into Steve's. The cicadas continued to buzz. 

"There's something else," Bucky chewed her lip, keeping his eye contact even as she thought about how to say what she needed to, "I don't think I am a girl."

"Buck, if this is about--"

"No, wait. I don't think it is accurate. I was reading again. I think I _am_ genderqueer."

Steve's brows furrowed a little, but he nodded, "So...we're switching to they now? What should I call you?"

"No, I'm fine with she and I'm fine with girlfriend, I just don't think that calling myself a girl is _accurate_ ," Bucky shook her head, "It doesn't feel accurate. I hate how confusing this shit is, and changing things on you. I wish it were just one thing, you know? Or there was some kind of internet quiz I could take that would tell me what my gender was as well as what Taylor Swift song I am."

"Definetly 'I Know Places'."

"I'm ashamed that you know that song, Steve."

"What, why? She even has a video for it."

Bucky smirked, fluffing Steve's hair, "Is it ok that I don't know?"

"That you don't know shit about Taylor Swift? Yeah, I guess I can forgive you," Steve turned his head and kissed her hand, "You're keeping me up to date. That's all I can ask, babe. It keeps me from hurting you without meaning to."

Bucky watched him kissing her hand and felt a sharp pang in her chest. There was so much that she wasn't actually telling Steve. There was the whole college thing she had been steadily avoiding because of how damn much it hurt to think about. How was she going to survive without Steve there, every day?

Steve always seemed to be able to read her thoughts, "I don't want this moment to end. You're so beautiful in the sun."

Bucky was smiling at him freely, but she felt sad. The moment would end. The summer would end, and they'd be separated in a way that they hadn't been since they were children. Steve scooted up to be able to wrap his arm around her, just holding her in silence while a slight breeze rustled the leaves above them. 

"We're quite the pair, huh?" he murmured in her ear, kissing her temple, "The asexual wonder and his gender queer girlfriend."

"Makes me sound like your sidekick," Bucky rested her hand on his chest, "so. You _are_ asexual. We're calling it something now."

"Figured I'd trot out my label since you trotted out yours. I've been doing my own reading," Steve nudged her with his nose, "you're worrying about it."

"Yeah," Bucky wrinkled her nose, hating the fact that she _was_ worrying about it, "I mean, it is one thing to talk about it abstractly and another to have a name. Shit, I'm sorry. You've been so supportive and I'm fucking... balking."

"Why are you balking? Nothing's changed, I just used a word for it, like you said."

"I want to have sex, Steve," Bucky breathed out the words, "with you. But I also don't want to be the douchebag who pressures you into doing something you don't want."

"I said we could, eventually. Remember?" Steve nudged her with his nose again, "I mean, I'm curious what it would be like. I am."

Bucky turned her head to look at him as best she could, "If you're curious, then how...?"

"Being curious and actively wanting or needing something are two different things. Like, I'm curious about sky diving. Seems like that'd be something fun to do, but it isn't something that I absolutely need to do. It isn't something that I'm walking around thinking about all the time."

Bucky stared at him, then settled back down, putting her head on his shoulder, "Football and skydiving."

"How would _you_ describe sex?" Steve's nose was in her hair again, his voice a little muffled. 

"I don't know. A connection? Exciting? Not football and skydiving. More like... shit. Sex is sex. There's nothing I can really compare it to."

It was no secret between them that Bucky wasn't a virgin. She'd had both girlfriends and boyfriends throughout high school. She'd really stopped dating by the time she'd gotten into her senior year and the questions about her gender had really settled around her head. Now she was with Steve, and that seemed right. 

"I thought running away from the apartment cops was exciting," Steve murmured in her hair, "and sneaking out with you to the park at night. It is exciting, to me, when I make you laugh. I feel like we're connected right now."

Bucky pursed her lips, "But, it isn't the same. There's pleasure, and closeness."

"And I'm close to you right now," Steve continued on, his voice steady and even, "and it makes me happy. It is pleasurable for me. Because it is you."

Bucky sighed, leaning into him a little more. He always had a way of making things seem reasonable. He could probably convince her that jumping off the roof was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, only that wasn't a really valid comparison. He was right, of course. It was possible to experience most of the things that made sex interesting to her without actually having sex. Being around him was exciting, and it lasted longer. They were always connected. There was no way they weren't experiencing a connection, or intimacy. His smile, his arms around her...

"Oh," she muttered, squeezing his arm under her hand, "I think I-- all those moments with the people I slept with that made it feel important, like we were connected or anything. I didn't really feel it outside of fucking."

"None of it?" Steve's voiced remained even and Bucky found it a little hard to read.

"Not. Exactly? I really liked Stephanie, a lot. You know how that ended. And I was head over heels for Jacob. That was a disaster. The sex was the only time it felt like things were, you know, real."

"And with me?"

"We feel real."

Steve squeezed his arms around her, "Then let's leave the sex thing as a hurdle to jump over when we get there?"

Bucky nodded, leaning her head against his. She felt reassured, even though she wasn't entirely sure how they were going to jump that hurdle. It was a strange thing to readjust her concept of Steve looking at her with attraction in his eyes to reflect the reality -- it was just adoration. That was its own kind of attraction, an emotional draw that was maybe stronger than the physical. She'd have to think on it longer. It only seemed fair, with all of the consideration that he had for her. 

"I love you, Steve," she murmured to him, "still so damn lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky too, Buck. Always have known that."

Bucky thought about how intimate she and Steve actually were when they went back to her house after another hour of laying in the sun under the trees in the park. Steve's hand was on her back as they trooped up the stairs. He dutifully helped her change into the clothes she felt more comfortable in once they were behind her closed door. There was no part of her life that didn't involve Steve. If that wasn't intimate, or a connection, she didn't know what was. 

She wadded up Kleenex and stuffed it into her bra while he stood behind her, kissing her shoulder. The first time they had done this, after the pool escapade, it had felt awkward and unnatural. Now it was part of their routine. Bucky stuffed her bra, slipped her shirt back on and they went about whatever they were going to do for the rest of the afternoon or evening. She'd slowly gotten used to the appearance of small breasts on her chest, even though tissue was far from perfect. 

"I want to try out breast forms," she mused, pushing at one of the tissue breasts with her finger through her shirt, "they're supposed to have a better shape."

"Alright," Steve looked at her over her shoulder, slipping his arms around her, "how do we go about that?"

"That's an excellent question that I'm sure the internet will have an answer for," Bucky grinned, hugging his arms against herself. Steve was about to say something when the little bubble of their world popped. Bucky felt all the color drain out of her face.

The door to her bedroom opened. She was standing face to face with her mother while she was wearing girl's skinny jeans, a stuffed bra, and a tight shirt. Steve's arms were wrapped around her in a way that could not be mistaken for "friendly". Her mother stared back, holding a laundry basket on her hip. The moment stretched on and on, more awkward than Steve walking in on her ever could have been.

"We need to talk, James," her mom finally spoke, breaking the spell of awkwardness, "right now. Change your clothes and come downstairs. You too, Steve."

She set the laundry basket down and closed the door with a finality that made Bucky certain that things were coming to an end much faster than she was prepared for.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was seething beside Steve. She wasn't going to hear reason in that moment, even though Steve could see that Winnie was coming from a point of concern for her children. As far as he could tell, she wasn't rejecting them outright like he had feared she would. She just seemed confused and something else Steve couldn't name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing lacks a beta, so if you catch an error PLEASE tell me!

They sat on the couch in the Barnes living room, side by side. Steve's knee was very subtly resting against Bucky's because he couldn't offer any other reassurance in front of Mrs. Barnes. Not while they were potentially facing the tongue lashing of the century. Steve could only imagine how Bucky was feeling. She had gone pale and had stayed absolutely silent even after Mrs. Barnes had closed the door. She had changed into the clothes she had been wearing earlier with a mechanical precision that had scared Steve. The bra was discarded to the side, tissue spilling out of the cups, as if it didn't even matter. 

It did matter. All of this mattered, so much, and Steve was sitting there tongue tied.

Mrs. Barnes, Winnie, hadn't even said anything yet. She was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clasped in her hands, staring at both of them in a way that was starting to make Steve uncomfortable. 

"So," she finally started, and Steve was as thankful as he was scared that she was finally speaking, "there are a few things I think we need to talk about. More than a few. I'm not even sure where to begin."

She looked down into her coffee and cleared her throat before beginning, "First. Are you two... a couple?"

Bucky nodded beside Steve so Steve spoke for them, "We are."

"Thank you, Steve," Winnie glanced up from her coffee at him, "how long?"

Steve looked at Bucky again, then replied, "Not long. We started dating right before my birthday."

Bucky hesitantly put her hand on Steve's leg so Steve shifted so that it was harder for Winnie to see, just in case. He wasn't actually sure how she was taking all of this because she was looking back down at her coffee. Bucky had hidden his relationships with boys the best he could from his mother, and Steve had never really given it any thought. Maybe Winnie wasn't as accepting as he had always assumed she was. That thought made him want to retreat from the living room. Mrs. Barnes was like his own mother, and to not know something like that about her was overwhelming. He silently hoped he was wrong.

"So, you're gay?"

"No," Bucky blurted before Steve could even open his mouth, "no, we're not gay. Steve's asexual and I'm bisexual. I think. It... they're different."

Winnie was sucking her teeth, looking at them cautiously. Steve noted how tightly her fingers were gripped around her coffee mug. Her voice stayed even, and he gave her some credit for that, "What do you mean, Steve's asexual?"

"He's asexual?" Bucky looked at Steve, clearly struggling to explain it. Steve had to do the right thing and step in. They couldn't always talk for each other. 

"I don't feel sexually attracted to anyone," he said it as frank as possible, even though it felt really awkward to be saying that to Bucky's mom. To the woman who was basically his mom away from home. She stared at him.

"So, you two aren't having sex?"

"No, mom. We're not having sex," Bucky huffed, squeezing Steve's leg under her hand, "and even if we were, we're both eighteen now."

Steve would love to tenderly wrap duct tape around Bucky's head. Her mother had started to look relaxed when they were reassuring her of Steve's sexuality and that they weren't sexually active, but now she was tensing up again.

"I don't appreciate your attitude, James," she quipped and Steve winced internally. Calling Bucky James was the last thing she needed right now. They hadn't even opened the whole can of worms on the gender thing. 

"What attitude? We're eighteen. If we wanted to have sex, we could. Legal and everything."

"But this is my house, and you're my child. You may be eighteen, James, but as long as you're living here, you need to follow my rules. I love both of you like my children and this is hard."

Bucky was seething beside Steve. She wasn't going to hear reason in that moment, even though Steve could see that Winnie was coming from a point of concern for her children. As far as he could tell, she wasn't rejecting them outright like he had feared she would. She just seemed confused and something else Steve couldn't name. 

"Please, don't call me James."

"That's your name, what I named you, when I gave birth to you. I can use it if I want to."

Oh boy. Steve looked up at the ceiling and prayed for it all to end. That was not going to go well. He had to act fast, but he had no idea what to do. They were talking with an adult, with Bucky's _mom_.

"I hate it," Bucky's voice came out sullen, "I hate _hearing_ it."

"Ok," Steve started, putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder, "let's not get caught up in that. Sorry, Mrs. Barnes. We are dating. We're not having sex. We'll be mindful of your rules. What. What are those, again?"

There was something like gratitude in Winnie's eyes, even though Steve felt somewhat like he had just betrayed Bucky. 

"I want you two to keep the door open, and no more sleeping in the same room. I know you've told me that you're not having sex and Steve isn't interested, but I don't trust that."

Bucky snarled beside Steve. Winnie held her hand up, "We have to talk about the other thing now. Please. We can fight about my rules later."

Steve and Bucky both went silent, knowing exactly what that other thing was. Steve grabbed Bucky's hand, to hell with keeping his attempts to soothe her daughter obscured from Mrs. Barnes. 

"I couldn't help but notice," Winnie started out slowly, "that you've been growing your hair out and that some of the girls' makeup has been going missing. I found some clothes in yours that I had questions about, but I figured you had a girlfriend you were hiding from me. Silly me, I guess. Now, seeing what I saw..."

They both stayed silent, gripping each other's hands. Winnie was watching them while she formulated what she was going to say. She finally just decided to ask a question. 

"What's going on, Bucky?" 

It was a simple question, but one that Steve knew Bucky was going to struggle to answer. She felt tense against his side, her hand gripping Steve's tightly. Her other hand was repeatedly scraping her hair behind her ear, as if she was trying to smooth it straight into her skull. 

"I don't know," the words fell lamely out of Bucky's mouth and Steve felt for her. All too often she struggled to really explain what was going on. He waited, not wanting to speak over her. 

"I just... I don't think. I'm. I'm not," the tension was growing while Bucky struggled for her words, "a. I'm not a boy."

"I don't understand," Winnie reached for the coffee cup again. 

Steve squeezed Bucky's hand to get her attention, "Do you mind?"

Bucky's nod was all Steve needed. He cleared his throat, "Bucky's genderqueer, Mrs. Barnes. It means she doesn't really identify as a man or a woman, but somewhere in between. I have some articles I can print out for you, if it'd help."

Winnie stared at him like he'd just revealed to her that he was part of an elaborate Illuminati plan to take over the US government. She clacked her nails against her cup before she spoke, "That'd be helpful, Steve. But I don't understand. She? So you're, what? What's her name. She's on that show on Netflix. Lavender?"

That got a strained sort of laugh out of Bucky. She was shaking her head, "Laverne Cox? No. Not. Not exactly. But I feel closer to being a girl than being a boy. So, Steve and I. He calls me she when we're alone. And I dress. Um. Like I want to."

Winnie's fingers tapped against her coffee cup again. Her lips were pursed in a way that always made Steve think about just how much Bucky actually looked like her mother. Steve watched Bucky out of the corner of his eye, acutely aware of the fact that she was only getting tenser the longer her mother took to speak. 

"I don't know about this. I don't know if I can say 'she'. You're my son. My only son," Winnie's voice had an edge to it that was sad, "and all of this...it is so dangerous. People kill each other over things like this, Bucky."

At least she used Bucky and not James. Steve nodded, speaking up while Bucky was still faltering, "We know. We know a lot of transwomen get murdered. That's why Buck's been so afraid of coming out with this."

He didn't add the part about the crippling fear of rejection by her mother and sisters. 

Winnie set the cup of (untouched) coffee back down on the table in front of her, nodding and pushing her hair behind her hair in the same way that Bucky did, "We're going to talk about this more. I want you to see a therapist, Bucky."

"What? Mom, no! I don't need a therapist!"

"I think you do," Winnie interrupted her, looking at her very seriously, "and not because I think you need to be changed. Don't conflate me with one of those people who thinks their child is _broken_ because of things like this. I just think it would be best if you had someone who is a professional to talk to about this and not just... Google and Steve."

• • •

The rest of the conversation had been stilted and awkward. By the time they got upstairs, Steve felt like they'd been put through the ringer. He just barely stopped himself from closing the door behind them and sighed when he remembered what Winnie had asked of them. They'd probably end up spending more time at his house, which was alright. It just wasn't as nice as Bucky's. There wasn't as much to do, and he always felt sorta awkward around his foster parents despite how long he had been living with them. It was an at arm's length relationship on both ends. They care, enough, and he cared... enough.

Bucky sat down on her bed and hugged her knees up to her chest, "So, that was a fucking disaster."

Steve shrugged a little, picking her bra up off the ground and tossing out the tissue that they'd used to stuff it, "Maybe seeing the therapist will be for the best. I mean, everything that we have read has said that therapy is a requirement for transition."

"Medical transition," Bucky corrected quietly, "I don't even know if that's what I want. I just...want to be me, Steve. That so hard?"

"I guess it must be," Steve made his way over to her, sitting down on the bed and looking towards the open door, "a lot of people seem to struggle with it, at least."

They both stared at the door, then Bucky stole her hand into Steve's, tucking up against his side, "What'd I do to deserve you?"

"Scooped me out of the mud," Steve smiled at her, turning his head to kiss her cheek, "bandaged up my scraped knee. That sealed the deal."

"I think you're in love with my first aid kit."

"That's the answer," Steve chuckled, "I'm sexually attracted to band-aids. I'm a band-aid sexual. Let's go tell your mom."

"You can't be alone with the band-aids. Don't close the bathroom door, Stevie."

"Might fuck 'em. I know I said I wouldn't, but. You never know. Can't be trusted."

The humor of the moment died out and they both sighed in unison, which got a tired chuckle out of Bucky. 

"At least she didn't kick us out," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "I was so scared she was going to do something like that."

"Me too."

"Maybe. Maybe this won't be so bad."

Steve nodded in agreement and turned his head to kiss her softly, "It'll be ok, alright? You're going to get through this, and well. It is gunna be hard, but you're gunna do it. But. Never alone. Got it?"

"Got it."

They avoided talking about it for the rest of the evening, instead settling in to watch Netflix with occasional awkward glances towards Bucky's open door. The fact that the door was open meant that her sisters drifted in as if they had never seen the interior of her room before. Both Bucky and Steve were quick to chase them out and wonder if there was some way to convince Mrs. Barnes of the need for privacy, if just to be able to finish a movie without one of the younger girls barging in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't fucking believe you," Steve's voice cracked. Bucky slowly sat down on the edge of his computer chair, watching him pace and feeling very, very small.

Steve grabbed Bucky's wrist and lead her up to his room, "I decided to try again. Drawing you. I hope. Well, I hope that it is better this time."

"The drawing wasn't _bad_ last time, Steve. It just hit some sore spots."

Steve gave her a look over his shoulder and Bucky shut her mouth, following him up the stairs and through the door. The past week had been tense, at best. Bucky's mom was trying to understand what she was going through, but it was slow going. The girls certainly didn't understand and were mad at her for stealing their makeup. The only benefit seemed to be that she felt more comfortable leaving her room in her more feminine looking clothes. Clothes were clothes, but she knew people could be touching about it. Following Steve into his room, she was wearing a pair of jeans that had rhinestones on the back pockets and a loose black shirt that hung off her shoulder. She'd considered shaving her chest initially after putting it on, but ultimately decided against it.

"Alright," Steve steered her towards his makeshift art desk, "here we go."

Bucky looked down at the picture and raised her eyebrows. It looked more like her than the last one had. He'd kept the squareness of her jaw and had drawn her hair the length it actually was, save perhaps he gave it a bit more body than it actually had. She didn't have any stubble in the drawing and she was wearing some light make up. The background was made up of bright yellow dots in water color. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and touched the very edge of the paper.

"Is it alright? Do you like it?" Steve sounded nervous beside her. She nodded. He'd even put her in one of her favorite sweaters. It looked more like her than her reflection usually did.

"Holy shit, Stevie," she breathed and reached out for him, pulling him close to her, "you're going to be an artist, I believe it. You're going to go to school and you're going to fuckin' wow 'em."

Steve laughed, tucking his head under her jaw and wrapping his arm around her hips, "Hey, I had a good subject. I'm glad you like it this time. I want you to keep it."

"You sure?"

"All yours, baby."

Bucky tilted her head down to kiss him, nuzzling against his cheek, "I'm going to miss you so goddamn much, Steve."

"The campus isn't _that_ far away. You can drive up and see me, or I can come home on the weekends. We'll make it," Steve looked up at her. There was a little bit of worry in his eyes, but not as much as she had. She realized she'd set herself up on this path the moment that she had blurted out how much she was going to miss him. 

"Yeah... um. Christ, I should have told you about this weeks ago," she rubbed her hand over her face and felt him tense up against her.

"Told me what, Buck?"

"I haven't wanted to talk about college because I. Fuck. I didn't think I'd get in. I was depressed and just wanted away from here, so I applied to a college in Oregon. I got in."

"When were you going to tell me this?" Steve pulled away from her and she felt his absence all too keenly, "Does your mom know?"

"Yeah, she does," Bucky chewed her lip, "and I was going to tell you soon, I just couldn't figure out how."

"You're going to be across the country from me, Buck. In a matter of weeks."

Bucky just nodded. Steve was pacing now, running his fingers through his hair. He was small, but his emotions easily filled up the room. Right now there was no doubt that he was angry. Hurt, and angry. 

"I can't fucking believe you," Steve's voice cracked. Bucky slowly sat down on the edge of his computer chair, watching him pace and feeling very, very small. 

"I wish you'd told me, I so wish you'd told me. Then I would have... I would have been prepared. I wouldn't have spent so much time thinking I could just. See you. See you whenever I needed to. Shit, Buck."

"I'm not going to be able to see you, either, Steve..."

"Why didn't you talk to me? When you were feeling like you needed to get out?" Steve stopped pacing and went to her, kneeling down so that he could take her hand in his, "I could have applied to that college, too. Or one nearby. We could both be going to Oregon. Or I could have convinced you to apply to more schools. I could have helped."

"I wanted away from everything, Steve. I'm sorry. I didn't really think about it at all," Bucky kept her voice very quiet, "this was before I came out to you, ok? Before we were a couple."

Steve lowered his head to her knee, drawing in deep breaths, "I'm sorry for getting mad. I was shocked. I'm still upset."

Bucky nodded, hesitantly reaching out to run her fingers through Steve's hair. She wanted to comfort him, to provide some kind of reassurance that things were going to be ok, but she really didn't know what to say. Her fingers trailed down the back of his neck and she tried, "We can Skype every night. We can text, all the time. I'll be back for holidays. It'll just be a long distance relationship. I think we can do it. I don't want to, but. This is really the only way I'm going, now. I'm sorry, Stevie. I didn't do this to hurt you."

Steve muttered something she didn't catch against her leg before speaking up, "What if it doesn't work?"

"There's no what if," Bucky looked down at him, reaching to lift his jaw so that he had to look at her, "you're stuck with me, alright? I love you, I love all of you and it doesn't matter if you're an inch away from me or a thousand miles. I know you feel the same way about me. Right?"

Steve nodded, even though he still looked pitiful. He reached up for her and she leaned down to wrap her arms around him, tugging his small frame against hers, "We're in this 'til the end of the line, Steve."

Steve buried his face in her neck and she held him like that until her back hurt. It hadn't been right of her to keep that information to herself, but with everything else going on, well. It had just been one more thing that she hadn't wanted to deal with. She didn't want to tell Steve that she was actually excited about going to Oregon. She wasn't excited about leaving behind everything she knew, but she was excited about going somewhere new. Even if it had been a depression application, the program seemed to be alright. She had decided she was going to put herself towards mathematics and engineering since she seemed to excel at those things. It didn't seem the right time to tell Steve she was excited about what the program actually had to offer.

He sighed when she had to let go of him, sitting back on his floor and looking at her miserably, "Are you going to be ok in Oregon?"

"I think so," she eased herself down on the floor to sit across from him, "it'll be a fresh start. I can dress however the hell I want without anyone expecting different from me."

"Don't get yourself hurt," Steve's voice cracked a little with concealed emotion. Bucky shifted herself across the floor to sit next to him. 

"I'm not going to get myself hurt, sweety."

"Sweety pie, honey bunch," Steve muttered as he usually did whenever she called him sweety, but he was leaning against her side and didn't seem to really have anymore initiative beyond that. Bucky tucked him up against her side and held him again. 

It felt like an eternity passed before he rolled his head on her shoulder, "We need to do things together, before you go. Take a lot of pictures, have fun."

"You're making it sound like a chore," Bucky raised her eyebrow, her head leaned against his, "we don't have to do anything but spend time together. I don't want there to be a lot of pressure."

"There's pressure, Buck. That can't be helped," Steve's voice had an edge to it and Bucky felt herself lapse into regret again. She should have told him earlier. She tried to push that regret away, looking up at the ceiling. She was taken by surprise when she felt Steve's lips brush against her throat. All the times that they'd kissed and held each other, they'd never done anything like that. She wasn't sure how to react so she sat still, letting him kiss.

"I don't even know what to do," Steve mumbled against her throat between kisses, "I just. I don't want to be away from you like that."

"We don't have to do _that_ right now, Steve," Bucky didn't want to sweet, hesitant, kisses on her neck to stop, but she also didn't want Steve to be doing something just because he felt emotional and potentially pressured to. He kissed her neck a few more times, then dropped his head to her chest. 

"Before you go."

"Are you sure?" Bucky's eyebrows bunched together and she craned her head to try and see Steve, "We don't have to. I want to, Steve, but I know. I know you're. Well, how you are."

"I'm afraid you're going to get out there and find someone who actually wants to have sex and you're going to leave me," the sentence came out in one long breath. Steve started to shake slightly in her arms, "Even if you'd said all the end of the line stuff. People have different lines. Different points where, where it is just too much."

"I would never leave you over something like that," Bucky squeezed her arms around Steve, trying to reassure him with the touch as much as her words, "I'd leave you over punt kicking babies, but not something like that. You can't help who you are, just like I can't help who I am."

"But you want to have sex. You told me that, and I told you I was curious but that I wasn't, you know... Bucky, can you understand why I'm scared?"

"Steve," she tried to keep her voice even, pitching it lower in her chest, "would you leave me for someone who didn't have all the gender shit I have going on?"

"No."

"Then you have to trust me that I'm not going to leave you for someone who wants to fuck, ok? I want to have sex. Fact. I _like_ sex. I'm dating someone who's asexual, and I love him. It is more important for me to love you than to fuck you. Or anyone else. Ok?"

Steve sighed at her again but nodded, "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this, you know that, I'm just shocked and the feeling of being scared won't go away."

"I should be sorry, for how I sprung this on you," Bucky smoothed her hand down his back while she spoke, "I really should, and I am. But I promise, we're going to make it through. We'll talk about it all more. There's no pressure to do anything but just enjoy being around each other. I love you, Steve."

"I love you, too, Buck," Steve pulled back enough to look her in the eye, "even if you are a real asshole sometimes."

They both laughed, even though there was a tone of sadness to it for both of them. Now Steve shared Bucky's ever growing sense that things were going to change soon, that the moments that they had together had to be cherished. He twined his fingers with hers and held on for the rest of the evening, only letting go when necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Steve's watercolor of Bucky. I'm on [Tumblr](http://jbbarnes-is-gq.tumblr.com).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We can do that. Hold on." Bucky set the phone down and Steve could hear her rustling around her room. He imagined that she got up and checked her door. More rustling and she was back, "Alright. You sure about this?"
> 
> "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
> 
> "Ok, just... tell me to stop if you need me to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there IS sexual content in this chapter, and Steve musing about his insecurities relating to his sexuality and his relationship with Bucky. The sexual interaction between Bucky and Steve does not make Steve allosexual and creates some internal conflict. I am providing this warning here because I am not personally a fan of fics where supposedly "asexual" characters are changed by a sexual interaction. I would say that Steve is Gray-A.

There was pressure. Steve couldn't deny the fact that there was pressure on everything they did, now that he knew Bucky would be across the country from him in a matter of weeks. Days after she'd finally told him, he still had some lingering anger but most of all he just felt sad. They'd only just started dating, and that was _important_. He had no doubt that their friendship would stand up to the test of distance, but would their relationship? As it was, they were rarely away from each other. And of course, he still worried that there would be Someone Else who could love her better than he could. 

He gave his everything to Bucky. There was no part of him that wasn't claimed by her, whether or not she realized that. Even with everything that he was being hers, he worried. She was a beautiful, vibrant, charming person -- there were a lot of people who had gone to high school with them that would love to have slept with her. 

And then there was him. 

Bucky was attractive, probably the most attractive person he could think of. He practically had her features memorized for all that he stared at her and tried to draw her. There were parts of her that sent his weak heart hammering in his chest. The way she tilted her head, the soft skin of her throat. The inside of her wrists... the movement of her hips when she decided to dance in the middle of her room, smiling and inviting. He was attracted to her, he decided, absolutely. But that attraction didn't come with the impulse that he believed it should. 

He looked at Bucky and all of her beauty, and a list of wants popped into his head. He wanted to draw her. He wanted to kiss her until she laughed and pushed him away. He wanted to run his fingers up and down her back and hold her while she snored softly in his arms. He even wanted to kiss her neck and make her blush. Why couldn't he just go the extra step? Why couldn't he _want_ her? 

Steve tried to approach the thought of that kind of want. Of course, he had masturbated and had enjoyed it. But it didn't seem to be the kind of enjoyment that Bucky got out of it -- he knew that she anticipated being able to touch herself, that she sought it out. They'd had the briefest of conversations about it and he learned that she had a routine. It was something she did regularly enough to have a routine. For Steve, it was more in the realm of peeling his skin off his shoulder after getting a sun burn. He'd do it if he noticed it and it felt good at the time, but it wasn't something he was going to actively seek out or probably even think of if he was asked about things that made him feel good. 

He couldn't apply the feeling he got when he masturbated to Bucky. After learning that Bucky wanted to have sex with him, he had tried. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and had noticed that he was hard, so he had taken himself in hand and had tried to think of Bucky. What he'd do to her, if...

Steve started out thinking about something he had read about. He imagined Bucky on her knees between his legs, kissing her way up his thigh. Then, she wrapped her fingers around him, started to lick. And he wondered if he was going to get along with his roommate in the dorms, and whether or not college was actually going to be as hard as his high school teachers had made it out to be. He came thinking about whether or not he was going to regret being on the meal plan that they were forced to pay as part of his housing agreement, his thoughts completely divorced from what he was doing with his hand. 

After he cleaned himself up, he sat on the edge of his bed and mulled about his inability to hold onto a sexual thought. Was he really asexual or was his ADD _that_ bad that he couldn't even focus while masturbating? He was pretty sure he knew the answer. It had nothing to do with how hard it was to pretend he had his shit together and could focus on something he had no interest in when his brain had other ideas. When Bucky and he finally did have sex, would it be the same thing? Would he be with her, and thinking about how he had no idea how to do taxes?

He laid down on his bed with what he had to admit was an over dramatic sigh. Bucky had promised that she wouldn't give up on him, but it was all too easy for him to think of her being fine with someone else. Someone who wasn't sick all the time, half deaf, crooked backed, wheezy and uninterested in what was commonly believed to be the standard of intimacy between a couple. He had tried so hard to convince her that they had all the things sexually active couples had in regards to intimacy. He'd tried so hard because he was trying to convince himself. They were so thoroughly entwined in each other's lives, how could anyone say that they _weren't_ intimate?

Steve looked at his phone for the time and wondered if he needed a therapist. Bucky had started seeing one, since her mom had insisted. She'd seen the lady twice and said that she felt alright about it, that the therapist apparently specialized in LGBTQA+ issues. Bucky told Steve that the therapist had a handful of other patients who were "trans youth" and that they occasionally had meet ups to foster a sense of community. Steve had encouraged Bucky to consider going to one of the meet ups, even though she said she wasn't sure she'd fit in. 

And what would going to a therapist accomplish for him? He didn't have the belief that he was broken in any way. He just was how he was. He wouldn't even actually be upset about it at all if it didn't seem like there was the possibility that he could lose Bucky (despite her reassurance to the contrary) because of his sexuality. He was insecure, he thought, because it was easier to imagine someone else having sex with Bucky than it was to imagine himself having sex with her. It was infinitely easier to hold onto the mental image of some faceless guy settled between her long, muscular, legs than it was to hold onto the image of her lips on his skin. 

And wasn't that a kicker. When he thought of this essentially featureless guy fucking Bucky, he got a lot of mental detail. He imagined the throaty sounds Bucky would make, and how their bodies would look curled into each other. Imagining this kind of thing never inspired him towards arousal, it more inspiried him towards jealousy. Which was utterly ridiculous because he was getting jealous of something he was imagining. He didn't think Bucky would cheat on him, exactly. She was a loyal to a fault. He just worried she'd leave to be able to scratch that itch with someone else. 

He groaned at himself and opened up his messages. 

Steve: Thinking of you.  
Bucky: thinking of u 2 ;)  
Steve: Didn't know you liked Bono that much.  
Bucky: lmao fuck you

Steve was surprised that she was up and texting him back, but quietly grateful for it. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He deliberated telling her about what he'd done, how he'd tried. 

Steve: Can I call you?  
Bucky: 1 sec  
Bucky: now u can

Steve stuck his headphones in his ears and hit the call button. The phone only rang once before he was greeted with Bucky's deep, silky, voice.

"Well, hello, baby cakes."

"Hey, Buck," he tucked his pillow under his head, "sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't. Everything alright? You sound off."

"Yeah, I just. You know, I was just worrying."

"You are worry in human form. What has you worrying?"

"Don't get weirded out?" Steve dropped his face, putting his hand over his face and trying to steel himself to talk about what he'd done. 

"...Probably wouldn't have, if you didn't say that. Are you ok? What happened?"

"I woke up hard." Way to go, Rogers, that sounded lame. 

"Oh," Bucky sounded like she wasn't sure how to approach that, "I'm sorry?"

"S'fine. It happens, of course it happens. I just thought, maybe. Maybe I could take care of it and think of you."

Bucky was silent on the other end and Steve worried he'd fucked up. She cleared her throat, "How'd that go?"

"Started off fine then I started thinking about college. That's what usually happens."

"You think about college."

"Or things that happened throughout the day, or I'm worried about. I don't know. What I'm thinking has nothing to do with my dick."

Bucky was chuckling on the other end of the line, "I like it when you say things like that. I'm sorry, sweety, I wish I knew how to help. Did it feel good at least?"

"Yeah," Steve muttered, somewhat taken aback by just how easy it was to have this kind of conversation with Bucky. He'd been gearing himself up for some kind of repulsion. He was slowly relaxing. Even if Bucky was chuckling at him, she wasn't calling him out on anything or hanging up on him. 

"Then that's a success. I mean, the whole point of jerking it is to feel good, right? So what if you have a hard on for academia."

"Oh, fuck you," that pulled a tired chuckle from Steve, "I do not get aroused by school. That's an unkind rumor intended to make me look like a nerd."

"You are a nerd. A giant nerd. Who's aroused by college. Oh, baby, hand me that $500 text book. Yeah, that's the stuff," Bucky's voice turned husky and Steve laughed helplessly while she continued, "yeah...yeah, you take that loan out. Ohhh..."

"Bucky, stop!" Steve puffed out, putting a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly. 

"Heh," it was easy to tell Bucky was smiling on the other end of the phone, "just trying to fulfill your fantasies, babe."

"Of financial strain? Asshole," Steve grinned, then paused, "...What do you fantasize about? When you're, uh."

"Jerking it?"

"Bucky."

"Rubbing one out?"

"Bucky!"

"I've got more, if you've got time."

"I don't, I asked you a question. Jerk," Steve hissed into the phone and was again greeted with Bucky's low laugh. God, her voice could start butterflies in his stomach like nothing else. 

"Well, the answer to your question is kinda complicated, I guess," she finally started to answer him, "I don't fantasize about college, I'll tell you that. Sometimes, it isn't really like a narrative or anything, it is just like... I get focused on a thought or a picture, and kind of build up around that. Or I start thinking of a story, but I usually lose it most of the way through and like...repeat parts of it to myself."

So, she lost focus like he did, but her thoughts trailed back over whatever it was that had aroused her in the first place instead of mundane things. That was interesting, at least, and helped him feel less foreign in how his brain switched gears. 

"Steve, you there?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking, that sounds kind of like what happens to me? I was thinking of you, then I was just in this loop of other thoughts."

"Yeah, I think it is probably actually pretty hard to hold together an actual thought while you're spanking the monkey."

"Jesus, Buck."

"You love me," her tone was sing song and he affirmed that yes, he loved her. Despite the fact that she was a jerk. 

"Can you tell me about, uh. The last thing you...jerked off to?" Steve got the words out and belatedly wished he'd used spanking the monkey, just to get an even better laugh out of Bucky in response. She was laughing quietly and muffled, probably under her blanket.

"If you really want me to."

"Yeah."

"It might get me a little worked up. That ok?"

"...Yeah," there was something interesting about that thought, about actually hearing Bucky get breathy, "yeah, that'd be fine."

"You almost sound like you want me to crank the love pump on the phone, Stevie."

"Where the fuck do you even get these euphemisms? I have never, ever heard that one," Steve was snapped out of the moment by Bucky's phrasing, again trying to stifle a laugh. She was laughing with him until he said, "And maybe. Uh. Maybe I do."

"We can do that. Hold on." Bucky set the phone down and Steve could hear her rustling around her room. He imagined that she got up and checked her door. More rustling and she was back, "Alright. You sure about this?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Ok, just... tell me to stop if you need me to."

"I will."

Silence on the phone. Neither of them really had any idea of how to start something like this. Bucky finally cleared her throat and started to speak. 

"So, the last time was this morning, after I showered. Well, I started in the shower, but finished up out of it -- that's not important. I was thinking about you. Uh, are you sure you're alright with this, Stevie?"

"I want to know," Steve couldn't help the fact that his voice sounded a little tight, "please, tell me."

"Ok. Ok, so. When I was in the shower, I was thinking about you being in there with me, and giving me little kisses on my neck that felt...just right. And you had your arms around me. One of your hands was on my chest and the other was on my belly. Your hand on my chest... uh, you were running your fingers lightly, um. Along the underside of my breast and it felt. So good."

Steve was fascinated by the change in Bucky's voice as she eased into talking about how she thought about him touching her body. His mind supplied the image that she was painting. He could think about himself holding her in the shower. He could think about touching the breasts she didn't actually have. They'd be small, just enough to fit in his hand and perfect because they were hers. Her voice was getting a little husky as she continued. 

"You were being so slow, touching me. Your fingers, uh... were really light, against my nipple and it got hard. You liked that, and teased me more, pinching it until I was squirming. And your other hand was getting lower on my stomach. I got out of the shower and dried off, and went to my bed. Is this ok?"

"Yeah," Steve's voice was a little breathier than he anticipated. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to hear her breathing change more. 

"Ok...ok. So, I went to my bed and laid down, and I thought... I thought about you leaning over me. Kissing my neck again, I really. Really. Like that. And you kissed down my chest, kissed over my nipples. It felt really good. Um. I like to think about having breasts and what you'd look like. Nuzzling them, kissing them. Telling me how beautiful you think I am. I thought about that for awhile, and you petting my legs. Then. Uh...mm. Then I was sucking you off. There really wasn't any kind of transition, or anything. I just -- I stuck my fingers in my mouth and imagined. What'd it would feel like to suck you."

Steve imagined it and it was...strange. It had been what he was trying to imagine when he'd masturbated earlier, but it was different to hear it from Bucky, especially when it was accompanied by a little suck of breath that told him she was actually touching herself while talking to him. He could picture her lips wrapped around him, but it was almost an unbidden image. Picturing her on the other side of the phone, touching herself, came clearer. 

"It felt good, having you in my mouth. You were...making little sounds in your throat, and holding my hair, telling me how much you liked it, how pretty I was. That you wanted me. You made me pull off of you, and I wanted to keep going but you were nudging me onto my back. Touching me...just right. Your fingers were...just right, on me. Mm. In...in me. Steve..."

Her voice had gotten breathy, and Steve could hear the slight friction of skin against skin. He found himself imagining her squirming on her sheets. He chewed his lip, shifting a little and belatedly realizing that listening to her was arousing him. Huh. He idly touched himself, murmuring, "I'm here, I'm listening."

"You...you stroked me and stroked and...and then you were inside me...so full," she really was losing her ability to string a sentence together, almost panting but also straining to keep her voice down, "moving, hard. Taking me so hard. Fuck...Steve."

The moan that came out of Bucky surprised Steve. It was deep, partially choked back, and it went straight to his groin. That was his Bucky, that was his Bucky thinking about him while she (he assumed) came. The fact that knowing that felt good was a complete surprise. She panted on the other end of the phone, occasionally making quiet whimpering sounds before she eventually got out, "...Sorry...fuck."

"Don't be sorry," Steve was quick to reassure her, "that was...amazing. Feel good?"

"Really good," she murmured back to him, "really, really good. I didn't think talking about it would be that good. Fuck. Was it... are you ok?"

"I think I'm turned on."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I. Yeah, I am, but it still," Steve stopped moving his hand, "I'm not thinking about it, uh. Now that I can't hear you? Shit, that sounds weird, doesn't it?"

"You liked listening to me?" Bucky's voice did that husky thing again that Steve was finding he really liked, "Really?"

"I did," Steve couldn't deny the fact that listening to her had made him hard. He looked down at himself and frowned in thought. Now that she wasn't talking about what she was imagining and he wasn't touching himself, his erection was flagging. 

"Maybe we can do this again?"

Steve nodded, then realized he was nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

They talked for a little while before saying good night and hanging up. Steve stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. He'd actually enjoyed listening to her, and could imagine getting himself off if he hadn't already shortly before calling her. Thinking about doing that in the moment seemed fine, but he still couldn't independently imagine the things that she was talking about and feel anything about them beyond a vague sort of interest. 

It was different when it was vocalized by her, accompanied by low sounds and breath. He didn't think he would be even remotely capable of physically doing anything with her, but for now, maybe they had found a compromise?

He curled up on his side and chewed his thumb while he worried about whether or not this new revelation of enjoying something like this with Bucky meant that he wasn't _actually_ asexual. It had felt good to find a word that described what he had been feeling (or rather, what he hadn't). He shoved his pillow over his face and groaned at himself, vowing to get online and try and find some answers for himself in the morning.


	12. Chapter 12

"Gray-A," Bucky mulled over the label Steve had used, pushing her toes into the sand under the swing. It was past midnight and they had snuck out to one of their usual hang outs. Steve was spinning himself slowly on the tire swing. 

"Yeah. I think... I think that's what I am. Or demisexual, but," Steve's brow bunched in a way that Bucky found endearing, "I don't know that that fits."

"Explain it to me?"

"Ok, so. Demisexual. You're sexually attracted to someone you have a close emotional bond to."

"Isn't that every relationship, though?"

"No. No, the sexual attraction only happens _because_ of the close bond -- it doesn't have to be with someone you're romantically attracted to. Demisexual is somewhere between asexual and allosexual."

"Allo...sexual."

"Sexual people. Er, people who experience sexual attraction. It is just a term that makes it all easier to talk about, you know?"

"Kind of like cisgender," Bucky perked up slightly, "ok, so I'd be allosexual?"

"Yeah," Steve turned his tire swing towards her. She smiled at him, rocking herself on the swing slightly and tried to encourage him to talk. The night before had been interesting for her, to say the least. She'd never anticipated having the guts to describe anything sexual over the phone, much less to Steve. The fact that he'd asked her too was exciting. After they'd hung up, she had started to worry about Steve and wondered whether or not things were really ok. She was glad that they were having this conversation now, even though it seemed hard on him. 

"So, Gray-A is kind of more broad... I don't know, maybe I'm confused about it, but from what I was reading," Steve started to turn the tire again, "Gray-A people occasionally experience sexual attraction but it is so rare it is almost not worth mentioning. Or it is like, situational. There were a whole bunch of things in the category. Shit. I don't know if this makes sense at all."

"Take your time," Bucky encouraged, reaching over the give Steve's tire a little spin, "I'm here."

It felt good to give him back the kind of support that he had given her. Because of his support, she was sitting there in a swing beside him, her brightly painted toes buried in the sand. She was getting bolder about leaving the house dressed in the way that was most comfortable for her, or asking her mother and sisters to refer to her with female pronouns. She had decided she was definitely non-binary but felt better being referred to as "she" rather than "they".

She was coming to terms with her body. She'd shaved her legs up to her knees before she decided she didn't really want to shave her legs -- but her arm pits were ok. She was starting to appreciate how the clothing she chose fit over her frame now that she felt more comfortable shopping from either section in the store. It was mattering less that she had broad shoulders and a thin waist. She still looked good and Steve's smile told her as much. She wanted to give him back what he had given her. 

Steve smiled at her a little weakly and continued, "I don't think I'm demisexual because I think if I was, I would have felt sexually attracted to you before we started dating. I mean, we've been so close for so long. And I was thinking about it last night, before I called -- but I am attracted to you. You asked me once. I am, it just isn't like...sexual. It is more. Well, I look at you, and there you are. My girl. My person. It makes me happy and I love you. It is like a romantic attraction."

"I can handle that," Bucky smiled at him, reaching to spin his tire again. She liked the look of her shiny, navy blue, nails next to the dark chain of the tire and got distracted looking at them for a moment. 

"Ok, so there's that. But last night, I did feel aroused, listening to you. It was very, very specific, you know? You. On the phone. Wanting me. And I was surprised because I _wanted_ to keep listening to you, and I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to get off with you. As soon as you were done, though? All that went away and I lost interest."

"Huh."

"Yeah. I freaked out a little. I started worrying, does this mean I'm not asexual? Have I been lying to myself? Am I actually just messed up?"

"I don't think you're messed up, Steve, or that you've been lying," Bucky ended up scooching over towards his tire with her swing, holding herself there by the chain, "not at all. This shit... Christ, we're both dealing with heavy shit."

Steve grabbed the chain of her swing, helping hold her closer, "I think my foster parents would just laugh if I tried to tell them about it."

"Maybe, but that's not here or there. I'm not laughing. Gray-A, huh?"

"I think so," Steve leaned in to kiss her fingers, "...I liked the phone thing, we can do that again, but. I don't think we should have sex. Physically. Not for awhile."

Bucky nodded, looking over at him, "Changed your mind about wanting to before I leave?"

Steve nodded and Bucky felt a pang of hurt when he looked away from her, as if he was expecting her to be mad at him. She really couldn't blame him for thinking that and she worried that she was putting too much pressure on him in the first place.

"That's fine, hey. Hey, Steve, look at me. You're allowed to change your mind. I'm not mad."

"Disappointed?"

Bucky shrugged her shoulders, "Not enough for it to matter at all. The phone thing was great, probably the best thing I've had in forever. It is more important to me that you're happy, ok? Always."

"But what about you? You're sure you're not going to get unhappy if all we ever do is talk?"

That was a fair question. Bucky pursed her lips, "Well, I'd like to try it, physically, at least once -- but the ball's in your court for that, ok? You say if and when that happens. But if all we ever do is talk? Good thing I have a hand and some lube, huh? I can go to town on myself."

"Bucky, ugh," Steve curled his lip but laughed, "the mental image."

"Me all cross eyed, fapping furiously? Hair wild, tongue stuck out to the side."

"Jesus, Buck!"

Bucky laughed, letting go of Steve's tire swing. He released her at the same time and she found herself briefly swinging side to side. She stopped herself with her feet in the sand, "You love me."

"Sad, but true," Steve smiled at her, "spin me?"

They fell into the familiarity of playing on the swing set. Bucky would probably think of the times that they snuck out and played on the playground as some of her happier memories. Who cared that they weren't really children anymore? She could cram herself down a slide, regardless of whether or not she was nearly 6'. Steve had an easier time of it being all of 5'5" on a good day. They had fun, that was what mattered. All too soon, they'd be on different sides of the country and they wouldn't have these easy moments anymore. They wouldn't be able to sneak out and meet up in the park after midnight to indulge themselves in memories of years gone by. There'd be late night Skype calls and texts. Nights spent wondering what the other was doing and whether or not they were thinking of each other. Bucky looked over at Steve, watching him laughing freely as he spun around on the tire swing, gripping the chain to keep himself from falling off. 

She loved that boy. 

She loved that boy more than she had words for. 

It occurred to her that they were going to be alright, regardless of how far away from each other they were. There would be times when they'd be back together again, back where they could reach out and touch, but until those times... they had everything that they needed. They could talk to one another with complete honesty, and they were slowly, slowly learning to trust in that honesty. They supported each other. She was certain that they'd have fights in the future. There would be times the distance would be harder than usual. There would certainly be more questions about who and what they were as they got older and learned more around the world around them. They'd both have to face that world and find a way to anchor themselves.

But never alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting and leaving kudos. That's really inspiring and warming. :) I may consider a second part to this story.

**Author's Note:**

> On the internalized transphobia tag: No slurs are used in this fic. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading. Kudos and comments are inspiring. <3
> 
> This fic is followed up by [I Was Made For You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4659231/chapters/10629282). I've placed them in a series for easier navigation.


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